Ratio
by Lychenne Laki
Summary: Zetsu is sent on his way to university to become a doctor, but as the gap widens between his life and his friend's, does one succesful life equal six wasted ones? Four months later when Zetsu returns to his home town, he's set to find out. Lots of Yaoi!
1. Rushing lives

New fanfiction –Ratio

A car whistled past me, almost spraying mud up my suitcase as I dragged it along the busy sidewalk, running over people's feet and bashing into their legs. Smells of last night's old Chinese, and this morning's fried breakfasts wafted around the crowded high street making my stomach churn. I was too nervous to eat yet, despite my friends urging me to. They followed behind me now, joking and shoving each other as if they were still children without a care in the world. I glanced behind me to check they were still there, sure enough they walked only a few steps behind me, strange – it felt like there were miles between us already. A cigarette hung from Konan's lower lip, and as I watched the bluish smoke curl up into the air the bitter smell reached me. Kisame (still covered in brick dust and paint from work) was only a few steps behind her – protective as always, and behind him stood Pein still harbouring a love for his high school girlfriend. I sighed, would these people ever grow up?

"Hurry up you guys!" I shouted, anxious about the time, but the only reply I received was a two-bit your mum joke from Hidan's foul mouth. I hadn't realized he'd come to see me off as well. I quickened my pace, heading for the large double doors ahead. The sound of people laughing, shouting and talking caused my head to pound, and the noise of trains thundering past on rails only added to my stress- I knew I was late. Sliding through a group of smoking hooded boys I made my way into the station with only a few minutes to spare. Everyone else must have been hot on my heels but I paid them no attention, my soul priority was getting to that train on time. The floor seemed to vibrate as another train whipped by just out of sight, and a gigantic clock high on the wall began to chime the hour. I gripped the handle of my suitcase until my fingers turned white, I had no idea which way to go.

"This way, Zetsu" a deep voice rumbled to me left, and I saw my oldest friend pointing the way, the only one of our group with a bit of sense. I could see him over the crowds as he strode towards the stairs leading down to the platform, being much taller than the rest he was easy to spot, and he had an aura of authority that made people jump out of the way – much like an ambulance with its siren blaring loud. I ran after him, taking two steps to one of his, and heard the noise and screams of our friends catching up behind us.

"Oh god, wait!" I heard Deidara cry out, but I couldn't waste time hanging about. I _had_ to be on that train. A few metres back, the blonde was gasping for breath, he was limping because of his aching feet and was sticky with sweat despite the chilly September morning. A rude retort sprang to the forefront of my mind – something about taking a trip to the gym, but I held it back. That's not how I wanted him to remember me for the next 4 months when I was away.

My thoughts were brought tumbling back to the present as we reached the bare, cold platform and stopped just short of falling onto the gleaming silver rails. My chest heaved and my heart was racing but we'd made it. I looked down the tracks and watched the giant metal wheels of my train slowly ground to a halt with a squeal. The door opened. Now was the time for my goodbyes, the time I'd been dreading for weeks and weeks now. Tentatively I pulled my suitcase and bags on board, then leaned out through a pull-down window, gazing down on my old friends. All six of them stared back at me, Konan with a slight tear in her eye.

"Seeya, guys" I mumbled, afraid to say too much for fear of my own sadness breaking out. I wasn't sad to be leaving my home, wasn't afraid of the new life I'd be leading or the new friends I'd have to make. I was simply disappointed, that I'd been the only one to make it this far. I kept this thought to myself, and satisfied my friends with the little goodbye-have-fun-be-good speech they were all expecting. Within minutes the goodbyes had been said, we'd waved, the girls had cried and the train had left. I sat alone on a seat, cradling my bags and pondering the lives my friends had chosen to lead. Kisame was stating a new building project, which I supposed wasn't so bad, Pein and Kakuzu were expecting promotions - Pein at his factory job and Kakuzu in one of the high rise offices in town. I was glad for them, in the way a best friend should be, but I couldn't help thinking they could have done better. Hidan of course had dropped out of college and completely given up, he said he was going to look for a job but I highly doubted it. I sighed again; I would have liked to take him to University with me.

Distractedly I flicked back through the University prospectus they'd posted to me, reading details of my course over and over again as the train left the city and journeyed north across open countryside. The pages were crisp and new, smelling of expensive ink and smart offices. The title at the top of the sheet read 'pharmacological sciences'. A sudden unexpected laugh burst from me, but real humour was absent. The writing on the page, and the grades written down on the papers lying in my bag seemed preposterous, unreachable, another world compared to the life I'd left behind, the life that might have been mine.

It was exiting, getting out into the real world, but as the steady shake of the train continued, I was lulled into a half sleep. Too nervous to succumb to comforting darkness, but too bored and warm to sit still like the others around me. I watched them quietly as my eyelids slowly drooped, they sat as if there were wooden boards strapped to their backs, and stared forwards unblinkingly. The sight unnerved me, but the onslaught of sleep was relentless, and gradually everything faded out.

5 hours later I'd arrived in the place that was to become my new home. Konoha – home of the best medical teams and colleges in the world. The train braked suddenly and everyone lurched awkwardly out of the door. Many of the people around me were silent, wearing suits, carrying books. I felt out of place in my jeans, and wondered what the standard was here. Grey suits, grey shoes and grey personalities too I shouldn't wonder.

"Um . . . excuse me?" I attempted to get the attention of a security guard nearby, to ask him the way to the university I was headed to but my voice was little more than a whisper. Hours without speaking could do that to you. He was dressed smartly but proved to be utterly useless, stood so straight he couldn't look down to his feet where I stood, lost and alone. Turning away in disgust I pulled out a crumpled map, with a red pen marked on inexpertly by Deidara, following the dodgy directions I headed out through the great glass double doors into the late afternoon glow, in search of the Student Union complex.

The cloud seemed to thicken over my head as I dragged my bag up the gravel drive, twenty minutes later, the smells of the station still catching in my nostrils. I glared at the key to my new apartment, shiny and gold, but boasting a room on the very top floor. I groaned inwardly, ignoring the stares of other scholars nearby as I huffed and pulled my cheap jacket around me tighter. It was becoming cold and I envied the other boys with their lightweight Prada bags, and Gucci animal fur coats. I found myself standing and staring, suspended as if on unbreakable thread in an oasis all my own, while around me the rich men bustled. The long journey from home had taken its toll on me and my eyes were weary, stinging after looking at these beautiful people for so long without blinking. My short green hair blew around in the biting September gales, dust swirled stinging my eyes and whipping my chapped lips. I felt alone, more alone than ever before. Everyone and everything I'd ever known had been left behind in the city I'd spent all day travelling away from. I felt a tiny twinge of doubt in my chest – was this really a good idea?

_Ok guys, so I got pissed off with writing the university fan fiction and have come up with a new weird hybrid idea. What are your thoughts so far? If no one replies then this fic is going bye bye and possibly so shall I._

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	2. Culture

_Chapter two of my university tale, in which Zetsu is absorbed inescapably deeper into a culture he used to despise . . ._

I rolled over in my single bed in my solitary dorm. The sheets were cold, my pillow was a block of ice, and outside the unfamiliar sounds of the countryside plagued my dreams. A gigantic owl searched for me in the crippling darkness, its eyes yellowed saucers as large as big Ben and its screech as loud as a hundred peels of thunder. I quaked in terror underneath the starched bedclothes, my eyes squeezed shut in hope the dream would end soon and I'd wake safe in the little flat me and Deidara used to rent above the liquor store. I remembered the grimy glass and bashed out walls, it had been a place to call home and it didn't cost the world. Now I was here, sleeping in a high rise building, while above and below me slept young men in silk pyjamas dreaming dreams of country mansions. They no doubt had drunk warm milk before slipping off heated slippers and jumping into their beds. My stomach churned, I had to mix with these people and already I'd made a decision join them, blend in with them, and eventually . . . to become one of them.

I stretched, the morning light creeping across the immaculate floor was golden, and I followed its beams to the foot of the bed. My case lay open, spewing its contents forth like guts, I shivered, that's one thing I wouldn't be doing today. Keep silent, stick with the crowd and see how it plays out, such was my plan. I dug through my jeans and shirts, searching for a lone pair of black trousers that were as expressionless as the faceless men on the train yesterday morning. In the end I left my little room wearing much the same kind of outfit as I'd seen on display already, smart and restrained and ready to study.

I recoiled from my reflection in a restaurant window, if Deidara could see me now he'd have an asthma attack. I smiled at the memory of my friends, probably still asleep at this hour except maybe Konan, waking early to go and work at the store. I remembered her in her white and green chequered uniform with the cute matching hat, sitting behind a till chewing gum all day. Somedays I could see the charm in her that Pein was still falling for, despite her being nearly a married woman. Kisame was truly a lucky man indeed.

I was shaken from my daydreams when the pavements began to grow crowded and I realized I was nearing the biomedical science building, all around me busy men strutted importantly, and subconsciously I adopted their pompous pose. Holding my head high, I hurried into the foyer of shining wooden floors and high ceilings. A lecturer was guiding us all into a room I recognised, the theatre I'd been amazed by at the open day. My heart thumping, I took a seat along with the rest, careful to maintain my new gait and aura. Immediately, I was spoken to,

"Nice place they've got here isn't it?" sniffed a red head to my left, "I'd heard the practical theatres over in Iwa were second to none, but that whole area is rather . . . tasteless don't you find?"

I was shocked to say the least, the man's tone had an edge of superiority to it, and he spoke slowly yet purposefully to me. It was clear he thought of me as one of his own, my mouth went dry, I had to keep up the facade,

"It's not too bad" I returned, trying to imitate his accent and tone, "but the residential halls leave a lot to be desired" It was a complete lie, I'd never been treated with such luxury as long as I'd lived, but I couldn't let him know that. I turned to face him and saw a smug smile plastered on his face,

"Quite true" he sneered and nodded, I breathed a sigh of relief – I'd passed the test. Minutes later, my first lecture began, and I was swallowed up into my new life of study, seminars, and late nights... The first week passed in a swirl of notes, forms, speeches and new friends. I thanked whatever god was watching me that I'd taken that seat next to the self important red head, for soon I was swept up into his group.

In the evenings, after the days work was done, we sat in their rooms in the comfy chairs by the bookcases they had in the expensive apartments on the other side of campus. It had taken me many weeks to find my way around the sprawling layout of the university, and many times I'd got lost on the way to classes, having to embarrassedly explain my lateness. My cheap, lower class room was squeezed into the ugly concrete complex near the noisy busy road, far removed from the places I needed to be. So I was always arriving late to class, and not getting home until the red sun burned its way down behind the evergreens.

"How do you get to class so fast?" I once asked Sasori as we sat sipping punch in his lounge, I was shocked by his answer

"Oh the chauffeur is never late" he said, voice clipped and precise. After that, I never doubted the extent of his wealth.

At first it horrified me to see how the other half really lived, but before long I pretended I also had one of these high-class residences, and was dreading the day they expected to come over to my apartment for a change. What I didn't realize was that each of these boys was too proud to bother listening to the others, and was only interested and showing off the 'new oil painting daddy ordered', or 'the photos of that evening in the beach house'. But the fire always crackled away in the corner, casting scents of wood oils over the room and lulling us all into a sleepy mood, I sat and listened to their endless tales of hunting and horses, of dinner parties and elaborate dances organised by their parents so they could meet girls. I chuckled, remembering how the others, especially Deidara met girls. It normally involved a drunken night down the clubs and a back alley nearby. Classy.

"So how do you find the 'nightlife' around here?" I announced one clear evening as a frost was creeping in over the meadows chilling the students in the cheaper apartments to the bone. I spoke the word with an inflection I'd learnt from Sasori, a sneering tone leaving no doubt that I despised the very idea.

"Oh very good very good" his friends chuckled, spewing forth smoke from cigars they'd taken to smoking quietly. I'd tried one once, found out how much it cost and puffed happily if warily away, putting forth a convincing act that '_papa always loved this brand'_. It had worked.

As for the nightlife around the uni, I'd never been one to party, I left the apartments when the music from above or below got too loud, and sought sanctuary in the library, often watching Sasori do the same. I watched him often, out of the corner of my eye. I watched the way he moved, the day to day change of his outfits, the way his mouth moved when he spoke during seminars, and sometimes I watched the firelight dance in his eyes. As the nights drew in, and the bleak sunlight lasted for only a few short hours between dawn and dusk, I found myself spending more time with him and his friends. We ate expensive seafood in the upper class end of town, browsed round the private boutiques and bought extra study books from the antique bookshops.

"So what course are you studying?" I asked, as our designer label boots marked the frost on the pavements on the way back to Campus.

"History of art" Sasori replied, and his friends nodded in appreciation, "Its a mix between cultural history and fine renaissance art" he explained, and my eyebrows raised.

"Why, what are you studying for?" they asked curiously of me in return

"Pharmacological sciences" I replied, enjoying the shocked expressions on all five of their faces. It might not be high – class, but it took serious brains, and for that I held their respect.

"I'm going for the top grade" I continued, deciding to add a flair to my little description, "mother wants the best for me, and she's paying for all this . . ." I indicated the bulging book bags, the little restaurants where even our snacks had cost more than a weeks wages and the towering university in the distance. I sniffed, and they mirrored my outburst.

Ironic, I hadn't had parents for more than a decade, but here I could be whoever I wanted to be. I could invent a past for myself, fabricate an entire life and spin it in front of their very eyes. The idea was exhilarating.

We passed together underneath the archway and headed up the steep slope towards the apartments.

"Oh dear, hold your breath chaps!" Sasori sneered comically as we passed close to the halls of residence, the middle-class rooms where less well off students were sleeping. It was a game of ours, started during the first weeks and carried on now- way into November.

"You can almost sniff the sewage!" I commented cruelly, and earned myself a discreet round of applause. It didn't matter to me that later I'd be sneaking back here, into my freezing dorm. Right now I was walking with kings.

"God isn't it just awful!" the red head whispered loudly when we were clear and ascending the marble steps to his own door, "such poverty on our very doorsteps, I feel almost unclean!"

"Oh good show!" I announced, flopping into a leather armchair as the other boys did the same, "Can't stay long, I've got an important final tomorrow afternoon, you know"

"Just a nightcap then" my best friend offered, handing me a small glass filled with a dark orange drink I'd come to know as a whiskey more expensive than its weight in liquid gold. We sipped it greedily, smacking our lips, safe in the knowledge that we were well off, would always be well off and at the end of the day, were better than those who weren't.

The bitter cold of a winter night had long set in by the time the grandfather lock chimed ten, and I knew it was time for me to make my way to my tacky apartment.

"Goodnight!" My friends called as I quietly closed the door behind me, carrying my coat over my arm. They thought I shared the same building as them, and that I wouldn't need to venture outside into the fluttering snowflakes and biting chill, how wrong they were.

It was a lonely night in my own apartment. There had been no log fire to warm the air and I'd failed to pay my bills for the 3rd month running so the heating had been turned off. All my money was being spent on trivial things, little trinkets and cigars to convince Sasori that I was still as good as him. I could have ditched that crowd weeks ago, and carried on with new friends from my classes, but something about him kept me coming back for more. Was it his attitude? His manner? Or merely that look in his big brown eyes that kept me hungry for just one more look. I didn't know whether my meagre funds would hold out for the remaining six weeks until Christmas, I was running seriously low on money, and had no time to work due to the endless studying. Intelligence was almost as valuable as wealth in our clique, and that was one currency I had endless reserves of.

A grades and tests boasting full marks were filling up my files, I was steadily riding at the top of the class heading for a shining career in medicine, but behind the sparkling mask I was as poor as a beggar. An idea came to me, while I huddled in my cheap blankets. I visited the town often enough didn't I? There were a lot of expensive shops open weren't there? What if I . . . shopped without money . . . used my five finger discount? Light fingers caressing the wares on show in the jewellery stores, discreetly taking what wasn't mine. Wary eyes late at night, tapping at keys, selling what wasn't mine over the internet and making a mint out of it. The thought chilled and exited me, I could have anything I wanted, sell anything I wanted, I could be rich in a matter of days. Sasori's world opened up to me, and I fell into it, and into the darkness of a deep sleep.

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"Zetsu . . . grade A" read my teacher, that fateful morning of December the 17th and my heart leapt with pride. The final exam of the semester was done and over and I'd achieved full marks like I hoped. My face glowed while around me, jealous stares stabbed at my back.

I had money, dirty money. I had grades, but honest ones. I had an alibi for this Christmas holiday, visiting 'papa' in our country estate, when in reality I was going back to the crummy town I'd grown up in, back to friends I doubted had matured beyond the high school stage and back to eating cheap supermarket brands off a plastic tablecloth. Joy.

I would count the days until I returned, to this haven of high class living and this oasis of intelligent company. I'd make something big of my life, and here was the place to begin. As for Sasori, perhaps he too would hold a place in my life, the same way I now believed I secretly held a torch for him . . .

_To be continued . . ._


	3. Entrapment

Ratio 3 – kisame!

"This wasn't a good idea" the man muttered to himself, trying to keep his head low and his face anonymous. Coming out in broad daylight, in the busy morning city simply to say goodbye to an acquaintance hadn't been one of his best plans. Kisame pulled the collar of his uniform higher to try and cover his face, feeling exposed and paranoid already. _They_ were after him, he knew it, and trying to hide his apprehension and fear was becoming harder and harder. A laugh to his left, a man wearing sunglasses reading a newspaper to his right, any of these people could be here to intercept him. His heart raced, fuelled by guilt.

Hurriedly he jumped out of the road as yet another speeding transit van threatened to end his life in a brief squeal of tires. It had been a long walk to the station to see off his next-best-friend, and the walk back was proving treacherous in the rush hour.

"Watch where you're driving, you lunatic!" he shouted in annoyance, glaring at the mud splattered up his already dirty overalls and looking around for his lost group of friends. Deidara's head bobbed in the crowd to his left, his beloved Konan was strutting by his side, and he could just make out Kakuzu's towering figure way out in front. Blue hair blew into his eyes and he coughed, choking on the smoke from his girlfriends cigarettes,

"Kisame, you pussy, hurry up!" Konan whined, tugging on his ripped sleeve that was covered in paint and dust. "It's bad enough you come to see off your friend dressed like that, but even worse that I have to be seen with you!"

He groaned inwardly, and continued gazing across the seething mass of people, looking for the remainder of their group. Pein skulked ahead of them, his hands deep in his pockets and music blaring in his ears. He couldn't have heard them if he'd wanted to. Kisame sighed, he'd found everyone, and everyone was heading in the right direction – to work. Gradually as the streets cleared, he watched the gang of friends split from each other and head off down separate streets, Pein to the smog choked factory, Kakuzu to the nameless, faceless office, and after a cute peck on the cheek, Konan left for the supermarket. He sighed, wishing he worked days as well, all the day held in store for him was wrestling the TV controller from H-

Ah,

"Shit! We've lost Hidan!" he cursed, earning only a grin from Deidara as the blonde walked into the high street for another day of job-searching. He was alone, and he'd lost his youngest friend. Even more guilt welled up inside of him, he needed to get out of the spotlight and fast. Every extra second he spent out in the daylight was an extra second _they'd_ have to capture him. He whirled around, feeling a million eyes trying to stare him out, they'd catch him for his crimes, track him until his death, he could _feel _it.

He had to find Hidan, find him and get out of here fast. Where had he seen him last? Memories of the past hour rushed by inside his head, he remembered seeing the foul mouthed teen at the station, waving goodbye to Zetsu with an uncharacteristic sombre expression. He remembered watching him sigh heavilly as they left the bustling building, head hung low and hair covering his eyes. In fact, Hidan hadn't been himself the whole morning. He'd been acting strangely since last week- their last little hang out before the big goodbye. But where was he now?

"Looking for me?" a muffled voice called, close to his shoulder. Kisame stared down and was met with two red eyes. Both crimson in colour, and bloodshot from crying. His heart leapt out for his friend and he reached out to embrace his thin body. Hidan leaned away, a look of alarm suddenly flaring in his eyes.

"Kisame – behind you . . ." his small faltering voice trailed off, and before Kisame could comprehend his sudden change in character, two hands gripped his shoulders.

"Kisame Hoshigaki, come with us" a deep dangerous voice rumbled, and he was dragged off his feet, backwards into the strong arms of a stranger. He had no time to see his attackers face, only the reflection of a dark suit in Hidan's blood red irises as his friend disappeared into the crowd. He struggled, aching to free himself of the fingers digging into his skin, but it was no use. His doom had fallen upon him just like he knew it would.

A soft cloth was held in front of his nose and mouth . . . a pungent chemical smell . . . then nothing.

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People arguing, raised voices in the distance and a person hammering on a metal door. These were the thoughts and sounds that roused the young man from his drugged slumber. Opening bleary eyes he stared about him, and recoiled in fear. A cold breeze blew across his exposed skin, chilling him slightly, but it was no natural occurrence. A grate in the wall opposite supplied a constant flow of cool air into the room, for what purpose he didn't know.

The walls were a yellowy beige, the colour of once white paint long since turned with mould. He sniffed in disgust, and learned that the only smell of this place was the plastic odour of the pillows behind his back. It was reality. He was in a cell.

"Oi he's awake!" a gravelly man's voice shouted from beyond the thick metal door between him and freedom, and with a bang, a square hatch opened in the door. It was tiny, not even wide enough to fit a man's head through, and Kisame glared with venom at the eyes that peered back at him, he felt like an animal on display at the zoo.

"You are being arrested for violation of Penal Code 153 –Suspected possession of an Illegal substance, and Illegal crossing of the border contrary to section 8 and 23 of the immigrations act of 1968" The man shouted at him through the hatch, and Kisame barely heard him. He was afraid, yes, but he'd known this was going to happen all along. The chloroform was a bit much though.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. It may harm your defence if you say something you later rely on in court . . ." The police officer had grown red in the face from self-righteous importance. The words he was speaking made him feel like a big man, imposing and bursting with authority.

"Pc Jyana Todorov, will you supervise the handover?" the officer asked of his companion, out of sight beyond the small window Kisame had to look through. A female voice agreed, and soon the door was thrown open and he was handcuffed and frog marched out. The first man disappeared, and soon it was just him and the guards, walking quickly through the frigid air.

"Book him in" a voice crackled over the radios they had clipped to their belts, and someone replied with a complicated string of words he couldn't understand. Some sort of police code no doubt. If they thought their lingo would unnerve him, they had another think coming. The blue haired man's shoes thumped on the concrete floor, but upon reaching the main desk they made him take them off and put them in a bag. He had been stripped of all his possessions, and now saw them hanging in a cabinet out of reach behind the desk. Anger boiled inside of his chest, he couldn't believe they'd searched him while he slept!

"We were concerned over your welfare" the short blonde female explained slowly as if talking to a simpleton, "you could have harmed yourself in the cell, if left with certain items . . . in individual such as yourself . . ."

Her political correctness and careful choice of words amused and disgusted him. She'd become a true product of the system, voicing the beliefs she'd been told to believe, and speaking lines rehearsed from years of practice, years of deaf ears. Her eyes wandering his slightly bluish scars outlined every single blemish, every mark and nick in his skin. She was assuming, doing quality police guesswork and piecing up a beautiful tapestry in her pretty little head.

Man caught with drugs, crossing the border illegally, and many scars on his arms and legs. Obviously a drug user himself, prone to self-harm. A difficult case, a delicate case, a _dangerous_ case.

"We're taking you into custody" she carried on, in the drawn out tone she reserved only for the lowest of the low. But he knew it would go much further than this, further than the local station, further than a small town court. Deep down, Kisame felt desperately sorry for Hidan, he'd let him down and now the young teen was alone.

He paid no attention as they took his fingerprints on a shining machine, snatched his photo and his DNA with flashing bulbs and little tubes, he responded with dull tones as they asked him countless questions, recorded every syllable he produced. He made no comment as he was ruthlessly documented, forever to rot in their system, his soul to endlessly roam the database. After hours, the correctness of their torture was finally through, and Kisame was returned to his cold, bare cell, without his shoes and jacket. Secretly he shivered under scratchy blankets that had seen god knew how many prisoners before, listening to officers striding past outside his door with their keys jingling temptingly. Were they coming to release him? Every time the thought rushed through his head he pushed it aside. Kisame would not allow himself the luxury of hope. Gradually he fell to reading the illegible graffiti on the sticky wooden bench that was posing as a bed, as the hours passed achingly slowly.

Papers rustled dryly in his pockets as he tried to get comfortable. The tacky plastic cushions provided no comfort. But that's why they were there, to appear to provide comfort, when really there was none to be had from the beginning. He smiled ironically, despite everything he knew he deserved to be here, had no one to blame but himself and wouldn't accept a thing from them. Not a blanket or a drink. Nothing. He drew the folded letters out of his pocket and threw them to the ground, their professional paragraphs filled with words like 'legal representative' and 'advance disclosure'. Lawyers and judges and juries, they could all go to hell, they didn't know shit about his life. The little issue with his story had proven that.

"_Mr Hoshigaki" the policewoman began, using clipped tones and wearing her very best red lipstick,"would you like to speak to one of our drug and alcohol advisers?" She eyed his details on the brilliant bright computer screen, the light shining off the grease on her skin. He knew she was building up the same scenario in her head that the others had, and even though it was in his rights, and they expected him to cave, he declined her offer with a brief shake of his head. It was something he wasn't going to tell, but those drugs were never meant for him . . ._

Eventually someone came to get him, but by now all colour had faded from his cheeks and equally from the sky outside. He was cold, partly shivering,just cool enough to feel uncomfortable but not cold enough to breach his human rights. Half of him expected that was the true function of the small grate in the wall, to keep him tense and edgy. Ventilation his arse.

He shuffled out of the door when the smart men in uniform indicated that he should, but he felt his jeans slipping – the bastards had even taken his belt assuming he might desire to hang himself. His eyes narrowed as they cuffed him again, then lead him away from the cell. Nobody explained, nobody spoke, they were-he assumed- relying on his natural fear of the unknown to spur him into talking. Not today.

He eyed the collections hanging from their belts, spare handcuffs cold and silver, a baton of some sort, and a small bottle presumably full of pepper spray. A comforting thought indeed. As they walked he watched their starched jackets crease and straighten, their backs straight and polished shoes marching. Little green numbers on the shoulders, small and neat, even they'd become part of their own system. Turned from people to digits in the time it took to sign your name on the dotted line.

Wait, green numbers?

Kisame wasn't usually the observant type, but he'd felt sure that the other officers, the PC's and even the Officer in Charge had boasted gold numbers and gold badges. These guys must be different somehow, a different rank or a different sector.

"Or a different slammer . . ." he whispered with horror, then realisation as they reached a door with a long security code. Cold polluted air blew through when it opened with a klaxon sound, and the noises of the night stung his ears. An underground parking lot lay before him and dead ahead a police van with the back doors opening, beckoning.

His arms swung awkwardly as he was pushed though the doors and into the vehicle, disgusted further by the fact he was now squatting in a cage. A cage! His wrists were bound one on top of the other, with his elbows sticking out at odd angles, prone to scrapes and bumps.

"Mr K. Hoshigaki, you are being transferred by order of Police Chief Karl Chenier and with relation to code 56 of the Official summons act, to a secure location, without trial, to begin your sentence of 7 years imprisonment. You may appeal to your Legal Representative to be supplied with copies of your interview tapes at any time." He finished, somehow managing not to gasp for breath like a fish out of water,

"_Why the fuck would I want the tapes?"_ Kisame muttered with stunned amusement as the doors were slammed and locked and the van began to move. At least they'd told him what was going on, in that beautiful politically approved way of theirs.

Ahead lay the road and the night, beyond lay the gates and doors to the jail. The cold steel bars that would hold him forever, colder still the people living to the left and right of him, above and below him. Endless days with nothing to look forward to but sloppy meals and mind numbing walks in the yard. He knew it, he'd seen it on films. Hidan couldn't be expected to visit, losing two friends in one day was bound to push him over the edge. His red eyes would grow round with the sadness and the horror, and he'd turn to the one thing that could be relied upon to rescue him. The one thing that had brought Kisame down, the one thing that had gotten him caught, the one last thing that had swept him from Hidan's life for good.

He tried not to let his imagination run wild in this tiny confined space, but his mind kept reminding him that he was entwined in the system, well on his way to an inescapable future. He could imagine the doors to the looming prison opening up like a mouth, broken window glass forming into teeth, the sky darkening to grey and the soulless staring eyes of the people within. And lastly, the hungry air current pulling him closer as the beast took a breath . . .


	4. Crumbling

Ratio – 4 (the best bit for sure) Hidan and the rest

"Is . . . is anybody home?" he croaked, voice no louder than a whisper as he looked up, confused as to whether he was alone in the room. His silvery hair was matted and tangled, strewn over the cushions of the sofa he hadn't moved from for nearly three days. Hidan's legs were sprawled over the end of the couch in his and Pein's shared apartment and his head was resting on flat threadbare pillows. He guessed his ginger friend was hanging around at the skatepark again today, having never got his promotion and then lost his job, Pein had given up. He was only 19 but already the world held little for him. At 18, Hidan was following in his footsteps.

"D- dei?" he called weakly, doubting whether his new room mate was home either. The blonde had moved in about two months ago – into a spare room, barely two weeks after Zetsu left . . .

Zetsu . . .

He'd avoided thinking about him, and he'd managed to get around talking about him, but every now and then Hidan's pink eyes closed in an attempt to better picture his friends face. The bright green hair, his confident eyes and the way he seemed to succeed at everything annoyed Hidan so much. Hidan recalled him posing on that last fateful day, that Monday morning when Zetsu had walked out of his life and towards a new future. A knowing pain began in the pit of his stomach, crawling round like a reptile inside him, spreading its numbness up his body and locking its icy tendrils around his heart. He wouldn't, he _couldn't_ think about it anymore!

That only left one option.

He reached out, from his prone position on the sagging couch, towards the floor. His hand moved silently, stealthily through the still air creeping closer to its destination. With every millimetre it travelled, his mind spiralled back, remembering how this cycle began.

It had been Kisame who first suggested the idea, way back in'07. He was the one who first offered Hidan a place to hide and a solution to his pain. The summer sky had spun and faded at his first puff of the magical cigarette they shared, and the bright August sky had melted in front of his eyes like chocolate in the sun. He hadn't wanted to escape the world at first– only his own thoughts, and his own personal reality. In the beginning it had been fun, feeling pain both physical and mental just drop away like the countryside when seen from a rising aircraft. His worries, cares and fears were whisked away beautifully, but sadly only temporarily. Every time the haze of chemical happiness faded, he craved for it again and again. The light, brown powder, folded innocently up in squares of silver foil and sitting in his pocket felt like they could heal the world. Over time, he fell into a routine, every high was better than the last and though he hated to admit it, he couldn't get enough.

Gradually, his college grades worsened and his small 18 year old body weakened, until the day he realized he'd fallen hopelessly behind. There was no option but to give up, to hide himself away like a frightened animal in its shell. That was way back in December last year. Oh how little he'd done since then. Endless days staring at nothing but the ceiling, numb cold nights shivering alone on the couch, and worst of all watching his dreams fall away.

A sudden pang nagged at his heart as his fingers scraped the lid of the box his hand was searching for, Zetsu had just started out on a new adventure – but around the same time of year as Hidan had failed at his own. It stung, and it stung bitterly. The calendar on the wall read sometime in December, but Hidan paid no attention to the dates anymore, his diary was bare and so was his wallet. Every single last penny being given to Kisame, to give to the dude over the road, to get in return that beautiful feeling that swept his agony away.

And there it was, the cold plastic in his hand, filled inside with the dark liquid. He stared at it for a long moment, prolonging the anticipation, before roughly winding a belt around his arm and harshly tapping at it. It was, he found, becoming increasingly harder to find a vein. He didn't know why, but at the start it had been easy. He laughed ironically, right at the start he'd been smoking it, but as time went on, the crumbly brown powder hadn't been able to satisfy. Nothing could keep away the itching and the sickness for very long, and so just after his best friend's arrest, he'd switched. His thumb pressed down, and the contents of the needle disappeared, for a moment he simply lay there staring up at the white plaster above his aching head, and then it hit. It felt like he was falling, floating, gliding away, he had no sense of time passing and slowly his eyelids flickered closed. Drowsiness overtook him, and the quiet beating of his weak heart lulled him into unconsciousness.

Hours later, near on teatime, when other people his age were just pouring out of school gates, his friends returned. Deidara in the lead, carrying a stack of pizza boxes, though heaven knew how he could bear to eat more junk food after a days work at the local fast food restaurant. Pein slouched close behind with his skateboard over his shoulder, looking every bit the child he'd once been rather than the manager he'd tried to become. Konan tottered behind in a pair of heels that were far too high and a skirt that was far too short, her eyes were red and puffy – she'd been crying over Kisame, her boyfriend again. And lastly, closing the door on the cold chilling night, was Kakuzu, his tall figure towering over their heads. All four passed by the couch where Hidan lay unmoving, his blank eyes staring at nothing in particular, and his face registering a look of innocent release. A blanket was scrunched up at his feet, but his clothes were damp with sweat. He looked like death.

As always the group shuffled past, not saying a word or looking into his sunken dark rimmed eyes. As usual their hearts clenched in pity as they saw his chair against the wall, unused at the moment but seeming to leer and laugh at his immobile form. Kakuzu's back stiffened, he could sense the other's unease. Hidan made them feel uncomfortable. He'd told them about his friend's accident, sure, but it didn't make it any easier on them, when they came in to find him in one of his . . . fits.

It had been a few months ago, on a surprisingly warm may evening, when the group had been whole, and they were enjoying a night out in the summertime. The midges were out in their millions, and miles above so were the stars, a heady atmosphere of fun and freedom had settled over the 10 of them as they made their way out of the bar. And then it had happened. Hidan had been attacked and stabbed repeatedly. The blade had sliced at his heart and chest, and he'd almost died at the hands of a stranger. Kakuzu remembered the blood, redder and thicker than he'd evener imagined soaking into his clothes and hair as he'd held his friend, willing him to live. He remembered the sirens cutting through the still summer breeze, the flashing blue lights disturbing the ebb and flow of moonlight on Hidan's pale face. Worse still, the disinfected smell of the hospital where he'd lain for days as if he were dead.

After many weeks of doctors, tests and intensive care he'd pulled through, but his heart could never be the same. It was scarred and weak and the blood flow to his long pale legs was bad. He'd shed many tears in the dark hours of the night where no one would see, feeling the salty liquid dripping down onto thighs that could never clench another body between them, never feel _a man's_ body between them.

By day he put on a facade, wore a metaphorical mask – letting his friends think he'd taken it all in his stride, the fact he'd never run again, never dance, hardly even walk. They thought he'd been coping, until this . . .

Kakuzu turned and gave his friend another look, his whole body was weak and languorous, his pupils small and his breathing shallow. He'd known about the drugs for a long time, and wished he'd done more before it was too late. These new drugs didn't mix well with what the doctor had already prescribed for his heart . . .

As if on cue, his small mouth opened and a slight groan forced through his clenched teeth. A faint hint of colour had risen to his sallow cheeks but the effect made him look sicker rather than transforming the deathly white into the pink of health. His hands balled into fists and his eyes squinted tighter, whether he was awake or not, Kakuzu wasn't sure. Somewhere in the albino man's head, the drugs were mixing, clashing with each other. It was a cold hard fact, one that could not be changed, that the heroin singing through his veins was destroying his sex drive. But, Kakuzu thought sadly, his legitimate meds clearly had the opposite effect. And therein lay the problem.

"Oh . . . god" he muttered, tossing his head from side to side as he felt his body heat up. Tingling fire raced down his spine, flaring deep inside and making him groan aloud. Slowly, waves of _need_ rippled through him, sweat darkened the hair that lay across his forehead and his nails dug painfully into his palms. Kakuzu watched from behind the couch since his friends had long since disappeared into the next room, or possibly the next just to escape the sounds. Because they knew as well as him that this was simply the beginning, like the humming of the tracks as the train approaches, this was only an omen of things to come.

The pale hand still clutching the syringe fell to the floor, making a 'clink' as it hit the bare floorboards. Kakuzu tensed, he didn't like to imagine how often Hidan was using, or how much. That had always been Kisame's look out, but since he'd gone . . . everything had fallen to pieces.

"Urgh . . . fuck . . ." he moaned again, coming round and shifting his arms like dead weights. His fingers danced lightly over his burning skin, finding the waistband of his jeans then ramming straight into his pants. He just needed to relieve the pressure, the tension. He felt like he'd explode, he needed help with this, and fast. He could barely breathe; the air seemed thick and hot with his mad desire. He knew what he needed, but felt sure he was still alone in the flat. He simply lay trembling, unable to move, suffering through every second as his arousal climbed higher. His breaths became harsher, exiting his mouth hot on the heels of fresh grunts of frustration. He couldn't move his legs right now, but if he could they'd have been shaking. Finally his eyes flicked open, staring around the room in delirium and Kakuzu realized he'd almost left it too late. Hidan's eyes were spiralling, confused and lost, he needed help.

"It's all right, I'm here" he found himself saying in a heavy husky voice that sent Hidan's pulse soaring.

"K- k-" he gasped, clenching his hand around himself, "mmph, help me!" he cried

"Count" Kakuzu demanded with a bite of authority in his voice, and after a pause Hidan obeyed. It was a strategy they'd set up many months ago, to help Hidan cope in times like this where control was hard to keep for long. It helped focus his mind away from the lust, keep his heart from beating that much harder until the moment he could contain it no longer. The trouble was, he'd never made it further than five.

"One . . ." he began, and even that small utterance seemed to take all his strength, sap all his self control. His eyes rolled back and his hips began to rise, aching to press up against his lover. "Uh . . . T-t-two" he groaned, as Kakuzu slapped his hands away from himself and pressed down, holding his hips flat. He took several short rasping breaths and tried again, "Th . . . thr . . .thr – I can't! Kakuzu I can't" he choked, tears of frustration running down his burning cheeks.

From the state of him, Kakuzu could tell he was long overdue for his desired relief, and as much as he hated the part he had to play in this part of his friend's life, it wasn't without its benefits. Climbing back atop Hidan's hips, he glared down into the pink eyes bearing tiny pupils. He could feel the albino's stomach muscles clenching underneath his own legs, and could tell he was trying to contain his urges.

"Let it out, Hidan" he purred, leaning in closer and brushing his full lips against Hidan's bare neck. His skin flared up in heat at every point they touched, proving how receptive he was to the least touch from Kakuzu. His back arched up, pressing their chests together, and he had to bite his lips to stop from crying out. The heady mixed scent of sweat and man went straight to his groin, and his thin hand tightened, desperate to quiet the beast raging inside him.

"Now. . . Please. K- Ka . . . hn-" His voice was begging, the words having a dead edge of submission to them. Kakuzu finally gave in, realizing the time for games was over.

A second later Hidan let out a deep growl of pleasure – Kakuzu's fingers were finally inside. No more words were needed; two digits pushed slowly inside the soft warm flesh and Hidan groaned loud and long. Sweet spasms raced through his insides, and a glorious feeling began to wind its way up from below. He lay, immovable, as his legs were spread and Kakuzu moved. Something cold pressed against him, and he grunted in annoyance.

"I'm sorry Hidan," his gruff voice began hesitantly, "but you and I, I can't-"

Hidan understood. As much as his friend was here to help him, he wouldn't, couldn't get involved with him like that. Not a dirty addict like himself anyway. The drugs had brought him to his knees, and the line had to be drawn somewhere.

"kay" he muttered quietly, guiltily and with regret making every word taste bitter. Still he tensed as something was slowly pushed inside, too slowly to be called a thrust, which sent sparks tingling through his stomach and down his legs. Air rushed by his dry lips, hot and damp and carrying with it a gurgling moan. His muscles clenched as the foreign object was pulled free, then slammed back up hard and fast. Kakuzu's arm was strong from weightlifting, and the feeling he could produce in Hidan was so good he could almost cry.

They stayed together, skin on skin, until Hidan reached his peak and came, crying, into Kakuzu's waiting hand. Tears melted down his face as his hand was clasped in two larger, stronger ones. It was his fault he'd ended up like this, wilted and weak and numb, and he hated himself for it.

"You're gay, aren't you, Hidan" Kakuzu muttered, close to his ear. The question seemed absurd, ridiculous even given the circumstances. But deep inside he knew he'd have been panting, blushing, aching for a man above him even without the effects of the drugs. Kakuzu had finally realized it too, and carefully placed a kiss on the sweaty forehead of his friend.

He feared Hidan was beginning to think of him as some kind of lover, being as he was the one that always helped out and could always be relied upon for things like this. But a lover was not what Hidan saw him as. It was clear from the beginning, that Kakuzu was merely a tool, a cure to these fits Hidan found himself in. His heart belonged to no one, and sometimes he could guess how it felt to have nobody, how lonely that must be. Sometimes he could see the loneliness turning to hate inside Hidan's blood red eyes, and often when passion overtook the mind and hidden words and feelings escaped his scarred lips, sometimes a name would sparkle in the air between them, a name that hadn't been mentioned in this flat for near on 4 months now . . .

Little did Hidan know, the date was rushing ever closer to the day that man would return.

Silently Kakuzu left the room, not looking back on the pathetic form of his friend. He did not wish to look upon those dark rimmed eyes, the translucent skin and the figure wrapped in blankets anymore. Numbly, Hidan's light fingers found the lid of the box again, itching to rid himself of the shame, the dirt, the filth, he thrust a needle deep inside his arm. Slowly the colours of the room bled and swirled into each other, his head ached, and he was out before his hand had wrenched the point free of the vein.

He remained unconscious until dawn the next morning.

Just as the sun began to rise above the horizon, casting brilliant shades of vermillion and scarlet across the clouds, the rusted hinges of the flat door split the silence. The brittle plastic and wood creaked slightly as it opened, letting in a gust of freezing air that seemed to sweep around the room like an angry ghost. Morning smells blew into the room, exhaust fumes from cars carrying early commuters into the city, and beneath that, the earthy smell of recent rain.

Hesitantly, a head peered around the doorframe, scanning the dark depths of the room, nose wrinkling at the combined stink of old pizza and Pein's trainers. His hands clasped the crumbling wood; he could feel the mould soft and wet beneath his fingers and despaired at Pein and Hidan's lack of housekeeping. A siren wailed behind him, heading off into the rain swept distance to chase down some criminal, and his heart dropped to his stomach.

This city would surely be the end of him, before his return to sanctuary come January. He missed the delicate country mansion where he'd spent the first half of these holidays, the beautiful art deco that Sasori adorned the place with, and the rolling hills that provided the perfect background to conversation.

"I'm home" he sighed in a deadpan voice. Home to what he used to be, and painfully reminded of his roots. With a deep breath he crossed the threshold, new leather boots crunching on something encrusted on the tiles and designer Prada bag dumped on Pein's skateboard. The clock on the wall showed some time between 7 and 8 in the morning, its empty sound ticking through the smashed glass of its face, Zetsu grimaced, he'd caught the early train to get here and he was regretting it already.

"Anyone there?" he called out, more to reassure himself than out of any real hope that anyone was around. Pein would be at work of course, Hidan had hopefully got a job by now and the only other house he'd visited had been his own – with Deidara's car out of the driveway he'd assumed the blonde was out as well.

He took another hesitant step, wondering if it was rude to intrude after such a long absence, and then he heard it . . .

Voices, in a backroom. Talking, sounding worried. Deathbed voices. Somewhere distant a door slammed, the vibrations reaching through this thin walls and between his splayed fingers. The uncomfortable atmosphere seemed to get thicker the further he pushed into the clammy darkness, reaching a peak as he passed through the kitchen and the front door closed behind him, shutting off the semi-clean air and natural light. Cautiously he entered the thin hall where his nervous breaths bounced back off the plasterboard walls, seeming as loud as an orchestra, then finally pushed through into the lounge, where the scene unfolding met him with shock.

"Oh . . . Oh god" A feeble voiced called into the gloom, and four grim faces looked down in shame. Zetsu stood at the door for a second as if cemented in place, before Kakuzu spotted him and gravely shook his head whilst beckoning him closer.

Hidan was slouched on the sofa, deathly pale, with Pein stroking his head lightly, holding his hair back as . . .

"Kuz- I'm gonna be sick and it's your fau- arhh!" he groaned and was sick again into a bucket Konan was holding with disgust.

"What – what's going on?" he began, "Why aren't you guys at work or something . . .?" his voice trailed off as the truth hit, there was no work, there were no jobs to go to. His eyes flicked down to Hidan, who was panting wretchedly on the couch, his lips dry and scarred and his eyes screwed shut. He was suffering, but suffering with what?

"What's wrong with-" he began in a half whisper, but Kakuzu cut him short. His voice was stern and businesslike as usual,

"Zetsu I need you to do something" he started, noting the fearful look in his old friend's eyes. He had reason to be afraid, the same feeling was churning in Kakuzu's own stomach, a feeling which he'd later deny. It wasn't fair for him to be caught up in this, he'd started a new life and tried to get away from his past, but his past had pulled him back.

"I need you to take this, and go across the road-"

"But-"

"Take it!" Kakuzu growled, forcing a wad of notes into Zetsu's hand, and ignoring the widening of his eyes. He shuddered to think of the amount of overtime he'd had to work to get that amount of money in cash, but Hidan needed it, and he would have it no other way. Despite the illegality of the items the money would be used to buy, at least he'd acquired it in a lawful way. He'd have no guilty thoughts of theft hanging over his head.

"Go across the street, to the house with the green letterbox, and when the man answers the door, ask for Hidan's usual and give him the money" he said the words in a rush, in the hope that speed-talking would dim the terrible meaning behind the words. Somehow convince Zetsu that what he was being sent to retrieve was everyday groceries.

"I- I- what?" he spluttered, stumbling back towards the door with Kakuzu's hands firmly on his back, he tripped over the mat, forgetting to collect his bag and was soon back out in the chilling morning air. Newspaper pages blew around his legs and his hair flopped into his eyes, the rain was ruining his designer jacket and his hands shook with the cold. Nervously he looked down the metal staircase, where 4 floors below the street stretched out long and straight.

Annoyance flared briefly in his amber eyes, he'd only been at the flat about ten minutes and already he was running errands like some puppy on a leash. There hadn't even been a welcome for him, not even a note on the door. His annoyance however was swiftly chased away by fear,

His legs moved numbly, guiding him down the slippery metal steps, towards the unforgiving concrete, and towards the door. His heart beat rapidly against his chest with trepidation, his blood hummed in his ears, the money was crisp in his fingers because already he had an idea of what he was about to do.

Fists clenched tight with anger and fear, he rapped on the painted wood of the door, noticing it had no handle or knob with which it could be opened from the outside – strange. Little did he know that this house was not in fact, a house. It was what is commonly known as a 'hard front'. Behind the thick wood of the door were steel reinforcements, and although the windows might appear normal, they were actually bullet proof. The door might not even have been operable; it might have been welded shut, keeping the people inside for days at a time. Their sole purpose here was to sell, and remain anonymous, and for that reason Zetsu found himself having to kneel and speak through the letterbox the words Kakuzu had instructed him to say.

"I –er . .. I'm here for Hidan's usual?" he squeaked

"You don't sound like 'im" a gruff male voice answered, the tone gravelly and seeming to belong to a heavy smoker.

"He's . . .he's sick" Zetsu stuttered back, wishing this just to be over as quickly as possible

"That figures . . ." the voice replied, and Zetsu knew that if he could have seen the owner of the voice, he would have been shrugging. Not really bothered that one of his customers was ill, in fact, pretty much expecting it. That's when the truth clicked.

In return for the stash of banknotes, a small package was thrust back at him, by a hand he barely saw. And suddenly the flap was shut again, and subtly locked from the inside. His heart slowed slightly and he turned over the paper bag in his hands, daring not to open it, wishing not to know. This was Hidan's business, he noted with the mature respect he'd learnt from mixing in polite circles, he dared not intervene into the shady world his friend had immersed himself in.

The package never left his hands until he was back inside the thick stuffy air of the apartment,

"Got it?" Kakuzu asked gruffly, taking it from him gently and opening it with a slight rustle.

Zetsu remained silent, shocked and lost for words. He thought he knew what he'd just bought. Drugs. Was that why Hidan was sick? And had he just helped in making him sicker still?

On the couch, things were getting bad. Hidan's eyes were dry and stung, his throat burned from throwing up over and over again. He knew why, it had been a while since his last fix, and his body was demanding another. In this state, he could do nothing but sweat and shake and gasp for air, hoping and depending on the others to help him. His cheeks burned red, with desperation and shame. He heard Zetsu come in, and knew he was about to be saved, the horrible itch was about to be cured. People were murmuring, talking amongst themselves and he grew frustrated.

"_Hurry up already_!" he hissed, his voice coming out strained and quiet. His skin was covered in sweat, cold sweat and he shivered in earnest. Blinded by his addiction, he cried out over and over again, he'd never been so desperate,

"Kuzu . . . Zetsu . . _. _please!" he begged, heart crumbling. Shakes rocked his body, much as they had for the past four hours he'd been lying here. He knew about the sickness, he knew about the shivers, he'd had them often enough – missing a hit by even a few minutes was enough to trigger them. But this was different. This was like a living death.

"Sshh", a voice silenced his whimpering, and a cold hand came down on his forehead, calming him as a familiar sting broke the skin on his arm. He smiled, imagining the release already.

"That's . . . tha- . . . _thank you_" he managed. Pain and relief pulsed through him, and he let out a helpless sound of pleasure. Slowly the delicious feeling spread throughout his whole body until it felt like his head was no longer connected to his body. Again he was flying, flying away. . .


	5. Stories

Thousands of blank pages, a story that could have been written but in the end, never was. Such were the thoughts that drifted through Zetsu's mind as he sat up late into the night, just staring into his glass of whisky. It was a 15 year old malt he'd bought from his and Sasori's favourite distillery just before he'd left, and it had cost an absolute bomb. It was an acquired taste, they agreed, and only appropriate for the educated gentleman. The cost of his luxuries at Uni was no bother to him, because frankly, money wasn't an object anymore.

Turning to the window he looked out into the silky blackness of the sky, straining his eyes to see even a single star, but all were lost to the orange city haze. The chair was bony and cold, but he hadn't moved from it since everyone else had trooped off to bed. It was strangely ironic that the one night he'd returned home was the one time everyone spent their nights in other people's houses, in unfamiliar beds.

Pein was sleeping on the landing, having surrendered his and Hidan's shared bedroom to Konan.

"She deserves a decent bed, she's pregnant!" he'd insisted in a very grown up manner, before setting up camp near the stairs, Deidara had taken the couch nearest the kitchen, which wasn't a very wise move for whoever had to buy the groceries. On a darker note, Hidan had been left slumped on the sagging sofa in the back room, Kakuzu might have been with him, comforting him. But then again, nobody had the limitless depths of compassion and patience needed to put up with him constantly. Much less the great hulking man Hidan had attached himself to.

Zetsu sighed, and distracted himself from such thoughts by recalling the shining memory of Sasori's mansion in autumn. He'd bought a new set of cufflinks for the occasion, red and gold like the fallen leaves that framed the eaves of the house. They were probably sitting at the bottom of his suitcase right now, along with his favourite tweed blazer that he'd worn that same day. All pushed down the bottom of the pile and the back of his mind by the crisis his old life had become. He sniffed and took another look around.

The apartment seemed darker than before, the floors and walls in a worse state of repair than he'd ever seen them, the view from the window seemed duller, uninspiring. He remembered sitting up in this room when they were younger, having a can of beer between the seven of them, and feeling like grown adults. The view from this same window had seemed so very different, the world had stared back at them as they'd peeked through the dirty pane, full of promises. Oh how things had worked out so very differently.

Which reminded him, _did_ Deidara ever get that job back?

~....~

Shivering cold, it felt like there should have been ice on the inside of the blanket, as well as glittering on the streets outside. His beautiful blonde hair was scrunched and knotted on the cheap pillows and his longish legs were bent up under him. Deidara grunted, trying to get some sleep after the shocking events of the day. He should never have allowed Hidan to take his rightful sofa, the nice squashy one in the quietest room in the back of the house. It was_ his_ sofa damnit! He should have made that useless heap sleep on this decrepit spring loaded death trap instead. It was Hidan's own damn fault that he'd ended up like that anyway.

Deidara took a deep breath and let his thoughts simmer like boiling water. He was annoyed, yes, but he knew his generous, friendly nature wasn't the only reason for him choosing to sleep here tonight. The door to the kitchen lay open, just slightly ajar, mere feet away. He winced, feeling the pull. It was doubtful whether there was much in the cupboards tonight, except the old pizza they'd been eating yesterday. He remembered carrying it in, the boxes were hot and heavy, the smells wafting up from inside the cardboard, cheese and tomato and fresh dough. It had taken all his strength not to wolf them down on the way home from the shop. But as soon as they'd got back and flopped down in the bedroom, everyone seemed to have lost their appetite. Looking back, that was probably down to Hidan again. The . . . . sounds . . . had carried throughout the house, churning everyone's stomachs but his. At least there was one thing he could thank that guy for, the abundance of free pizza.

Eyes firmly fixed on the floor, Deidara carefully lifted himself from the couch and padded towards the coffee table, hoping the floorboards wouldn't creak and wake the others. Attempting to get around the clutter and litter without being heard was a bit of a mission, alas, his size was yet again to his disadvantage.

He didn't want them to know, he didn't even want them to guess. Slowly and silently he scooped up the lone pizza box and grinned when he felt its weight. There was almost a whole pizza inside, and some dip too if he was lucky. Settling back he stuffed his face, not even hungry, in fact far from it. The floppy soggy dough was cold and tasteless, the stodgy lumps caught in his throat as he forced down more. In the dim light the grease shone eerily on his fingertips, and the dip looked thick and disgusting, but still he did not stop. The box on his lap grew lighter and lighter as the hands on the clock moved round, he was almost through, almost done with this, when he heard a strange sound from the left. Like a box dropping off a shelf.

The kitchen door still stood ajar, with nothing but darkness within. He glared at the gap between the wood and the doorframe, daring someone to appear yet fearful of discovery. Hurriedly he pushed the box off his lap, spilling creamy white dip onto the floor and silently cursing himself. Surely whoever it was would have heard him by now?

~....~

"_Shit shit shit!"_ his raspy voice swore in the darkness. He couldn't see a damn thing, and if he turned the light on, that idiotic blonde would come bowling right in. All he'd wanted was a glass of water, something to cure his burning throat and remove the awful taste from his mouth. It had been hours since the sickness stopped, but the bitter taste in his throat had remained. He groaned quietly and reached for the door of the fridge, hoping to cast a slight glow over the kitchen. He needed it to be dark enough to stay unnoticed, but light enough to see. He laughed then, a sound with little or no humour, it wasn't as if he was going to _walk _in anything crap was it?

The yellow light and the chill swept across his skin as he opened the door, making him shake, dressed as he was in only his boxers. He scanned the contents, the empty shelves and reached weakly for some juice. Another second and he'd dropped it, his fingers were suddenly numb and his muscles tense.

"Oh god no" he muttered, clenching his teeth and willing the feeling to pass, "not again!"

He shut his eyes, concentrating on anything, _anything _but that tension winding its way up though his abdomen.Automatically his hand slipped to his groin, massaging and squeezing as he felt himself harden. The deep seated ache was becoming more pronounced, his heart was thumping behind his ribs, beating too fiercely. He gasped for air, trying to keep noise to a minimum, but it felt as if his torso was going to split apart with the sheer force of it.

Glorious twinges tingled up his spine, building the sweet pressure and he leaned back using his other hand to push his legs apart. He needed them spread.

"Urghh" he groaned, still desperate not to be found out. If he moved even slightly his chair might squeak, and then Deidara would burst in.

Sweat glistened on his skin, and a slow shudder ran through him. His hand clenched tighter, falling into a smooth rhythm, pulsing across his feverish flesh. He threw his head back, staring at nothing again, but knowing inside that he needed something more.

"Hn . . . mm . . . mm" he panted, thinking about reaching the small, bullet shaped device that lay only in a bag, slung over the back of his chair. But he couldn't reach it, he couldn't stretch round that far, certainly not in this state. And if he got up . . . well that wasn't an option. His back arched as another wave shot through him, and he groaned aloud, loud and desperate.

"Who-who's there?" a hesitant voice called, and suddenly the entire room was flooded with bright electric light. Deidara was standing there in a baggy faded shirt covered in crumbs, and a pair of jeans that could have fit two people inside. His mouth was open in a round O as he took in the sight in front of him. Hidan, slumped in a wheelchair, his cheeks red and his eyes bloodshot and narrowed with need. His left hand was plunged into his boxers, which were bulging out temptingly and his legs were roughly spread. His legs . . .

"Urgh . . . St-stop looking!" Hidan cried, a lone tear running down his face as he attempted to cover himself. An act that was proved useless as another spasm swept through him, making him growl and shake, and making his breath catch in his throat.

Deidara was hopelessly staring now, his eyes glued to Hidan's mess of a body. A trail of dried blood ran down his inner arm, coming out of a hole he guess had been made by yet another needle. A multitude of other sore red holes dotted his body, some scars, some fresh. But the real horror were his legs, thin, useless and covered from waist to shin with injuries blooming like unholy roses. Deep and shallow cuts ran up and down the skin, and purple and black bruises discoloured his thighs. A murderous glint touched his eyes,

"_I said stop looking_!" he hissed dangerously, "j-just help me!"

"Wha-what" Deidara babbled, taking a step back and raising his hands as if defending himself. He'd never seen any of his friends in such a state and didn't know what to do.

"A bag . . . there's a –_huh_ –there's a –_hn_ . . .a bag" he gasped, between pulses of frustrated arousal. He watched, immobile, as the blonde unclipped the back and passed it to him, with difficulty he retrieved the small cold metal device and threw the cloth to the floor.

"A minute? Please?" he asked, and waited until his friend had turned his back. Slowly he shifted further to his side, and carefully eased the conical device into himself, shaking with arousal with every extra centimetre it slid inside.

Panting heavily he settled back, then as soon as the next ache washed over him he flicked the switch on the pad in his right hand.

Instantly the vibrations pulsed through him, shivering up from his core, rendering thought impossible. His legs twitched, and he clenched his teeth on a deep groan, desperately trying to remain silent

"Oh... oh _god" _he moaned, writhing. He couldn't hold himself back, he was pushing, thrusting and thrusting into the thin air above him. The sounds of panting and urgent groans floated round the tiled room, until the sheer relief had Hidan trembling to his bones. Grunts burst out from deep within until finally he peaked and let out a long shuddering breath of release.

"F-fuck" he whispered, pulling the metal bullet free, and throwing it into the gloom. He looked up, wondering sadly whether Deidara had left in disgust.

Across the room, Deidara was struggling to cope with the spectacle unfolding before him. His hand dipped in and out of the snacks cupboard, satisfying his urges as Hidan put paid to his own.

He was sitting on the cool floor, still in the sanctuary of the kitchen. Fistfuls of crisps and nuts he crammed into his mouth, one cookie after another, he didn't stop until the entire supply of the chocolate was gone. Crumbs cascaded down his shirt and he looked at the mess he had made. His hands were looking sore now, red from eating too fast but his heart was still pounding in his chest. Still, he wanted more. He reached for the handle of the fridge, intending on wrenching it open, gorging himself on cakes and sweet things. It was a terrible habit, and suddenly he felt like a hypocrite – he wished he could take back all the mean things he'd said about Hidan.

Too caught up with their own problems, nobody had noticed the door creak open . . .

"Hey dickfaces!" a nasal, lazy voice echoed eerily around the tiled walls, shaking them both from their thoughts. The childish tones floated across to them, drowning out the constant crunch of Deidara's crisps. A faint scent of alcohol accompanied the intrusion and two pairs of eyes snapped round, searching for the flaming orange hair and trashy clothes they knew came with that voice. Sure enough, Pein was glaring into the dark, trying to focus on them while leaning heavily on the doorframe, the faint light glinted off a bottle in his hand.

"What are you doin' in ere in the middle o' th' night!?" he slurred, waving his hands dramatically. He stepped in closer, nodding at Deidara who was slouched on the floor and seeming not to be bothered by Hidan's half nakedness. He slid down to the filthy lino, taking a swig of cheap beer before loosely balancing the bottle on his knees. Silence was accepted as an answer to his question and for a few moments the trio sat without a word.

"Wanna come down the skatepark?" Pein asked after a pause.

" . . ." Hidan refrained from replying, it was late and dark, probably sometime between midnight and 1am. Quite frankly he didn't care.

"Sure." Deidara answered for him, picking himself up from the floor reaching for his keys. "Let's go out"

~....~

The wind swept quickly down the street, as if it couldn't wait to get out of this neighbourhood. A faint drizzle rode the air currents out, putting a faint chill into the night and blurring the light that hung round the moon. Pein saw all of this in a slight daze as he opened the door and peered out, preparing to venture outside first.

"Hurry up man, I want some chips" Deidara whined, pushing past his red headed friend and shrugging on an old coat.

"W-wait for me then!" Hidan called, sounding annoyed from inside the gloomy darkness of the apartment. He pulled on some old jeans and a hoody with difficulty, careful to check the pockets first, then sighed and sat back.

"Hidan?" a voice called loudly to him, as if realizing the problem the same moment he did. "You- you need help with the stairs?"

"Fuck off" he grimaced, and stared at the floor. Shame weighed heavily on him, he felt it churning in his stomach, but suddenly Deidara was all around him, lifting him up and carrying him out of the door.

"Put me down!"he yelled, as the cold night wind whistled through his hair. But he didn't mean a word of it. Faint embarrassment flitted around him as he was carried down the stairs, hearing Pein huffing and puffing as he man handled the wheelchair down the treacherous slippery steps after them.

The streets were empty at this time of night, nothing but the faint moonlight to keep them company, and nothing but their own footsteps to split the silence. Pein was heartily swigging out of a bottle, and continued to do so while they stopped at a late night kebab shop. The scent of grease and meat floated out of the door, eliminating any traces of hunger they might once have had. Deidara appeared a minute later, beaming from behind the steamy windows, clutching a bag of over priced fast food.

The smell stuck with them all the way to the cast iron gates of the park, beyond which gleamed the silver ramps and walls. A few benches were dotted about in the sodden grass, and litter surrounded them like a thick carpet. The neon glare of graffiti paint smeared all over the walls nearby added a sense of disrepair to the place, but it all added to the mood. Pein slipped through first, pointing out a missing bar in the fence, and Deidara followed afterwards.

Once again, Hidan was left sitting, alone on the wrong side of the fence. His eyes closed for a second, just remembering. The last time he'd been here was before the accident, back when he could have slipped through that fence without help. Familiar thoughts jumped towards the forefront of his mind, and this time he did not push them away. He recalled summer evenings spent laughing beneath the ramps while Pein rode his skateboard like the dust rode the air. He remembered games of football played at the back of the field while Konan sat making daisy chains she expected them all to wear. It seemed like someone else's life, in a different time, far away . . . He was going to need one hell of a fix to get him through this one.

10 minutes later, sitting, perched 2 metres off the ground at the top of a ramp he waited until his friend's attention was distracted. While the others busied themselves with unwrapping the food or wrenching the cap off yet another bottle, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic packet. He took a pinch of the light brown power inside, and in seconds sniffed it up his nose. The relief was almost instant, and already he felt better.

They sat, legs outstretched on top of the ramp staring out across the park or up into the night sky where faint aeroplane tracks decorated the velvety blackness like scars. Deidara was feasting on a slimy kebab, Pein drinking himself into oblivion and Hidan riding the hit until the last vestiges of warmth faded into the dark.

"Shove up" his blonde friend murmured after a while, trying to huddle together for warmth. Pein seemed to be asleep but opened one bleary eye at the sound of voices. He watched the scene with interest.

"Dei – I . . ." Hidan began, reaching for the thin railings behind his back and attempting to pull himself over to one side. "I – I don't think I can . . ."

"You really can't move those legs of yours can you?" Pein questioned, a sneer in his voice all of a sudden. He seemed to have become a different person; the change had become more apparent with every drop of alcohol he'd poured down his throat.

Slowly he slid forward, pulling a lighter from his pocket.

"Let's see how fast you move now . . ." he drawled, snatching off one of Hidan's shoes and flicking the flame into life.

At once the burning started on the bottom of the albino's foot, and his face creased up in pain. He could feel the heat searing through his skin, and cried out

"Stop! Please! Why are you doing this?"

"C'mon now, you can't fool us. Start shifting!" he spat, drawing a different form of pain from deep inside his friend. The awful burning continued and Hidan could do nothing but sit and suffer, he could imagine the skin turning black, falling off. The pain wound up his leg, torturous and terrible. Could one flame really cause this much horror?

With a pang of guilt he realized his teeth were clenched, his muscles were tensed, he was trying with all his strength to pull away. A breathless grunt passed his lips as he stared in disbelief at his unmoving legs.

"_Move, damn you!"_ he cursed, and a minute passed before he realized he'd spoken out loud. A minute of agonizing throbbing pain and aching straining muscles passed. His head was pounding with the effort, blood was rushing in his ears, then suddenly all went black.

"Hidan, what's wrong?"Deidara's voice sounded concerned, floating across to him from what seemed like miles away. His back was flat against the metal, which seemed strange, not so long ago he'd been sitting against the railings. His face felt hot, flushed and he realized his hands were clenched into fists. His legs _ached_, his head felt like it was splitting open, and the bottom of his foot blazed with fiery pain. But that wasn't the half of his problems.

"Where's P-"

"He left" Deidara explained slowly, looking his friend up and down, "are you ok?" he asked, voice lower and calmer. Hidan avoided his eyes, preferring to stare at the bleak steel ramps. He could feel small sweet tingles creeping up and down his body, he could tell he wasn't coping with this as well as he should have been. And he didn't want the blonde to know.

"I'm f- argh- fine" he panted heavily, running a hand delicately over his crotch, feeling things were decidedly on the hard side.

"No you're not" he replied quietly, "it's happening again, isn't t?"

"Mhm . . ." he grunted, eyes tight shut, and back arching slowly. Dimly, he felt a hand sliding down over him, caressing him gently before slipping down into the heat inside his jeans. Deidara was fondling him, curiously and oh so thoroughly. Feelings of euphoria began to wind around the edges of his mind, but before coherent thought became impossible, common sense took over.

"Dei, please. If you're not going to . . . Please stop. Just stop now"

"It's alright" he replied. "I'm ready." His voice was a sultry mix of lust and caution. He was exited, but then again slightly nervous. His breath was misting in the air as slowly he turned Hidan over onto his stomach, faintly he heard the albino cursing,

"God . . . urgh –Dei- I need . . . I . . . I. . . I" he was panting heavily, his hips twitching slightly as he ground his tingling groin against the floor, desperate for a little relief.

"Shhh" the blonde whispered, carefully spreading his legs like they were made of porcelain, and kneeling between them. Two hands slid underneath Hidan's slim frame, lightly lifting his hips off of the cold metal floor. Deidara could feel Hidan shaking, still trembling with urgent need as he moved to press himself warmly against his rear.

"Oh!" he whined, a high pitched sound followed by a shudder that spoke of shame and frustration. "Know that this first time will be fast" he panted, "I need you too badly for it to be anything else.."

Deidara nodded slowly, understanding etched on his face, before slowly removing his friends jeans, respectfully averting his eyes. Hidan hissed when the cold metal touched his bare skin, but he was too far gone to care. Every inch of him trembled with desire as Deidara gradually parted his soft flesh and gently pushed inside.

"_Aha – Dei-chan_!" he groaned, revelling in the glorious warmth and heat that was filling him deeply. It felt so good to have something inside, something that pulsed and pushed, and something that was truly living, not some inanimate piece of plastic. The blonde pressed up tightly against the sick heat of him, plunging further with every thrust.

"H-harder" he screamed, relishing the pain with the pleasure, and enjoying Deidara's movements from behind. His body flashed with desire every time the blonde's flesh slapped against his own. It was so real, so good, so right.

He felt electrifying surges of pleasure spasming though him, over and over again until he was plunging over the edge, coming hard onto the floor and going limp with exhaustion. Silent tears of shame coursed down his face unseen, but his flesh tingled with the release he'd so desperately craved. A torrent of held back moans vibrated in his throat, and his weak muscles contracted in waves as the orgasm left him shivering.

Deidara had helped him, as a friend, or possibly something more? It had been glorious, comforting even, coming together with a real person in his darkest hour of need, but he knew it was likely to be a one time only thing. Deidara had his own life to lead, an infinite number of skirts to chase. And Hidan? He'd go back to his usual release, the sterile soulless length of plastic that fit so snugly into his hand. It was better that way, he told himself, curling up as best he could on the unforgiving sheet metal. Behind him, he felt the blonde carefully re-dressing him, and bitterly the humiliation flared again angry and red. He couldn't even do that alone.

"Lets . . .let's just go" he murmured, oblivious to the time, and regardless of the hour. His chair stood below the ramp, and he had to endure minutes of being carried helplessly by a huffing puffing Deidara before being roughly dumped between the cold wheels. The stars shone dimly, almost ugly amid the orange tinted sky, and while he was distracted and lost amongst his thoughts, two pale hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"D-don't touch me when I'm like this" he pleaded, as his friend reached to caress his arching back and aching legs. He couldn't bear the thought of someone feeling his tortured skin, his useless muscles. And worst of all, he could feel his needs rapidly growing again.

"Huh!"he moaned, as two pale fingers brushed the bruises on his thighs, the pain shot through his body, right to his brain and sent pleasure coursing through him as hot as the burning sun. He felt his member begin to throb painfully, impossibly hardening a second time, Deidara had already noticed, and roughly re-inserted two fingers straight into his heat.

"I'll fuck you in your wheelchair" he hissed, and a strangled groan burst from Hidan's dry lips. With effort, he spread his own leaden legs, teeth clenched on numerous groans of urgent need. Deidara was instantly poised at his entrance, hands upon the back of his chair and his whole frame leaning over the slumped albino.

"_Please . . .!" _he yelped, driven wild by sheer desire, rocking forwards with fevered speed in an attempt to clench Deidara inside his fiery heat once more. The metal wheels sank slowly into the mud as the fragile chair rocked with their dance. Feeble plastic squealed in protest with every spasm that trembled along Hidan's suffering limbs. The disgrace that had earlier plagued his mind was burned away, and replaced by blissful nothingness.

Bruises erupted on his skin as Deidara's hips slammed into him again and again, and the back of his chair dug marks into his shoulders. His member twitched repeatedly and he clutched it tightly in his left hand, squeezing and pumping until his eyes were shut tight with pleasure.

"Hn hn hn!" he gasped, the air was running out and his stomach muscles clenched tighter, almost doubling him over. Inside him Deidara thrust faster, seeking and finding the spot that would make him cry, beg, and weep for release over and over again. The wheelchair rocked on the soaking grass, accompanied by Hidan's screams and tortured moans. Deidara was going at it so hard the pain was almost obliterating the pleasure, Hidan's rim grew red and sore, the skin inflamed and painful. He began to whimper in agony, clutching at the cold metal on his chair to distract himself as the blonde pushed back and forth. He felt the pressure building, deep inside, but didn't enjoy a second of it. He clenched his teeth and fists, holding out until the end when Deidara came agonisingly inside him. His torn walls leaked blood into his ripped jeans, stinging from the salty seed flowing into him. Equally salty tears dried on his face as his friend's hands stroked his hair softly, trying to reassure him.

"Dei . . ." he whispered in throaty tones, trying to massage some life back into his pounded hips.

"I'm . . . sorry" the blonde answered back, silently zipping up his jeans and averting his eyes from the half naked, abused man before him. "I . . . lost control"

"It happens all too easily" Hidan replied cryptically, a sneer in his voice that pointed more to his own self disgust than to Deidara's earlier actions.

Slowly, with the sinking moon at their backs and the promise of a rising sun in their faces, the pair headed home.


	6. Shocking

Ratio 6 . .

The young man dragged his feet, the bottoms of his smart jeans dragging on the filthy concrete paths as he made his way downtown. He had no idea where he was going, and had barely any recollection of this part of the city. A pair of headphones dangled out of his ears - designer ones with slight gold trimming around the speakers, but he wasn't listening to anything. No music blared into his ears; neither calming classical or angry rock, utter silence and the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears was all he could hear. At least with these things rammed into his ears people wouldn't talk to him. They weren't even plugged in. His pockets were empty save for one last cigar and an engraved silver lighter.

Slowly, he let out a deep breath this used to be his town, his neighbourhood, but he felt like an intruder. A fragile wind blew through the alleyways, carrying with it the smells of chip fat and trash cans and Zetsu tugged his long leather coat closer around himself. A growing sense of unease wound up from his stomach; since he'd been away the reputation of this place seemed to have gotten worse. The pollution seemed thicker; the shadows darker, even the amount of tramps seemed to have doubled. Fear trickled from him like deadly ooze as he glanced around, fully expecting to get jumped any second and have his expensive earplugs ripped from his head.

Why was he out here? Wandering the streets like a lost urchin? He pondered the thought for a moment before a change in the wind brought a new scent riding in on the freezing air. Barbeque, the delicious smell of cooking meat on the grill. It must have been burgers, sausages and maybe even fried onions. The tempting aroma had saliva dripping from his teeth and he checked himself just in time, feeling like a slobbering mutt. The scents wafted closer and he stood still for a moment feeling glad Deidara wasn't with him. He shook his head, staring at the leafless trees and the snow clouds pressing tightly for space in the sky; his nose told him it was summer, whilst his eyes argued it was still winter.

"When did things get so fucked up around here?" he muttered.

Further ahead, the road narrowed into a crowded courtyard, bordered on three sides by cramped terraced housing. A few straggly shrubs fought for life on rocky soil between the driveways, their leaves waxy and thin. Zetsu smiled, remembering Sasori's opinion on such plants. Garage forecourt plants he called them. They struck a sharp contrast to those neat lawns and rolling hills that Zetsu held dear in his mind. The delicate spring blooms that would decorate the uni campus soon were a million miles away from the stunted saplings here.

"Bitch niggas where ya hearts at? Ya'll ain't stuntin' like us!"

Zetsu jumped up, almost scared out of his skin, and with his heart doing double time. The burst of noise came from a shell of a car to his left, almost hidden behind a bulky transit van. The trashy beat and astonishing lyrics had him clapping his hands to his ears in shock. The very ground beneath his feet seemed to vibrate as obscenities assaulted his ears.

"Devilish racket!" he burst out before he could stop himself. His hands flew out of his pockets and the silver lighter snuggling deep in the velvet of his coat jumped out, glittering across the asphalt. He cursed, muttering about fiends and knelt down to retrieve it from a heap of rubble.

Suddenly a shadow fell across his back, cutting out the feeble winter light.

"You dizzy blud?" a slow voice slurred at him from above. The figure stood silhouetted in the fading light, his face was nothing more than a blur but he sounded like a mere youngster.

"I'm compelled to ask" Zetsu began in clipped tones, "what a youngster like yourself is doing out of school on a weekday?"

The youth stared him full in the face for a long moment. His short black hair complimented his eyes, of which only one could be seen. An orange bandana was pulled over the lower half of his face in true gangsta style, obliterating a view of his nose or mouth. It was tied behind his head, and Zetsu got the feeling he rarely took it off, his angry voice came out muffled behind the tough fabric, cussing the words

"I hustle bare mans on road innit!" he raised his arms, shrugging off the idea of education, teachers or books, and reaching instead for a short bladed knife on the inside of his jacket.

"Hug him up, blud!" he called, and out of the shadows crept more masked boys. Zetsu stood, surrounded and encircled on the forecourt, palms raised in slight surrender. He should have looked where he was going, he'd blundered right into mugging territory alone and unarmed. He guessed the ringleader to be a young boy he used to know, his hair was wilder and his voice slightly deeper than when they'd last met, but he knew the boy's name. His mum had died young; the kid had been picked up by a relative and had turned feral. It was rumoured that he ran the streets around here despite only being a youngster, and he was beginning to believe it.

"You're fucking with a big dog now pretty boy" he spat, spraying phlegm on Zetsu's shiny black boots and advancing, waving the knife.

"Tobi, remember me? Zetsu?" he quavered, thinking wistfully of the hot milk and bed he might not ever see again, "I used to know your uncle, and Pein – remember we took you down the park last year?"

"Don't even go there, round" he snarled, "I hit all them cats"

"_cats . . .?_ he mouthed in despair, lost in this new lingo. He spun, staring at each of his attackers in turn, neither was more than half his height, but there were so many. He was outnumbered. Just then a crash startled them from their 'game' but if he thought it was enough of a diversion, he was sorely mistaken. A lone man emerged from the gloom, with a cap pulled low over his eyes and cigarette smoke trailing him like a cloud. His long dark hair pooled around his shoulders and a hush passed over the group.

"Oi! Me and my Squad be stomping this bitch" Tobi yelled defiantly, but the spark in his tone had died. The stranger had yet to say a word, but instead fixed his nephew with a single midnight eye, commanding him and reprimanding him in one slight glance.

"Leave this one be" he muttered quietly, "or I'll mirk you, like I birth you"

His heart was still pounding a rhythm against his chest, but Zetsu guessed the tables to finally be turning in his favour. Even if he felt like he'd entered an entirely alien world where the English language had been abandoned, he felt his hopes begin to rise.

And then shatter.

"Hey bitch nigga get ya ass on the ground!" Tobi screamed, turning round to face him again. The mystery man had vanished into the shady interior of one of the flats, leaving Zetsu once again with the gang. The small boy at his feet stepped closer, his body language aggressive but his eyes flicking back to the window as if anxious his uncle was watching. His blood rushed in his ears as he was angered to the point of insanity. His cool exterior had vanished, leaving only the desire to maim and hurt. If he couldn't jack this cat he'd thump him up instead.

"Think it's a game 'rilla!?" he yelled until his voice was hoarse and his fists were sore from punches. Blood was trickling down Zetsu's face, and bruises were erupting along his ribcage. Something felt broken, and he knew the silver lighter was long gone, so was his jacket. He groaned and rolled over, feeling the cool concrete ease the hot swelling in his eye.

"He ain't ready . . . he ain't ready" Tobi's friend warned, the sound fading into the distance as the kids moved off and mercifully the dim cold of unconsciousness claimed him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was late when he returned. The streetlamps had come on to cast pools of orange light on the litter and bricks of the tower block. He trudged up the stairs towards Hidan and Pein's apartment. Everyone seemed to have moved in at once, as if to celebrate Zetsu's return and await the day that Kisame came home. The house was often crowded, but at least it was warm and no one had the chance to feel alone. The slight crackle of the TV reached his ears as he pushed open the door, and its slight blue glow pulsed under the door to the lounge. Someone was still up.

Hushed voices spoke in the semi-darkness, the only light being cast by a late night game show on one of the free channels. Piped laughter chattered out of the speakers, sounding to Zetsu like nails down a blackboard. He set one foot on the matted rug and peeked further around the door.

Deidara and Hidan were sitting together on the couch, cushions and pillows surrounding them and pile of empty crisp packets cluttering the floor by the blonde's feet. Hidan's face was deathly pale, as always, and he was reaching for a crumpled paper bag that Deidara was holding just out of reach.

"God! It's just my meds, Deidara hand them over" he cursed as the blonde got up and waved the bag in front of his nose,

"Have you had alcohol or recreational drugs in the last 24 hours?" he whined in a sing song voice, reading off the back of the bag.

"I'm an _addict_ what do you _think!_" Hidan growled; Deidara's stereotypical impression of a doctor was bad to say the least. His patience was wearing thin and his hands were balling into weak little fists with annoyance.

His friend was skipping about, just beyond his fingertips, critically judging him. He still hadn't fully apologised for the events at the skatepark the other night, and was acting as if nothing had happened at all. For this Hidan was partially grateful. He stared shyly up into the blonde's grinning face, wondering what he really thought, but to his dismay the carefree smile had vanished.

"Give it up" he spoke quietly.

It took a long moment for Hidan to reply, such was his shock. Realization dawned heavily, and the room seemed to grow colder as the jovial mood disappeared, to be replaced with a topic much more serious.

"I can't" he grimaced dejectedly, fingering the numerous scars over his veins. Deidara didn't know he was asking the impossible

"Just a week . . ." he bargained,

"For me"

Hidan's breath suddenly caught in his throat. He couldn't let his friend down, but he knew he had no choice.

"If you do, we can be a normal couple" he continued, and Hidan's heart sank further towards the floor. He knew what Deidara meant. If he gave up the drugs, his heart meds wouldn't react with them, and he'd lead a normal life, uninterrupted by dishonour and disgrace.

He closed his eyes, and tried to close his ears as well, preferring to ignore their brief conversation and push it to the back of his mind until he forgot it entirely. Little did he know it would rest on his conscience like a tonne of lead.

"I need to take my meds" he hissed, changing the subject back

"You know what will happen if you do . . ." Deidara warned after a pause, referring to the eventual outcome that would roll over him like a tidal wave,

"I know what will happen if I don't" he replied darkly, imagining his heart slowing almost to a stop, his muscles seizing up and the light fading from his eyes. The blood flow around his body would slow, bringing death on swift wings. It had already happened to his legs, which were now wasted and limp. They lay, scarred and bruised from ankle to hip from his undying revulsion of them, and his hatred of the way his own body betrayed him.

He reached again, grabbing the packet and swallowing down a few pills,

"Hi-" his friend began but he cut him short

"I'll be alright" he lied, as already he could feel suppressed urges stirring, he closed his eyes to hide the emotion building behind them, and when he opened them again, Deidara had gone.

The darkness sat around him, seeming to fill every space between his body and the walls, the corny tunes from the game show had long since faded away to be replaced by the black and white static of the cheap television. Faint light flickered on the ceiling, and he concentrated on it for a moment as he felt his body submitting to the invisible force. The familiar fire raced across his skin, leaving him trembling slightly and almost incapable of thought. He gritted his teeth, and dug his nails into the tops of his thighs.

Zetsu watched astounded from the doorway, peering through a crack in the frame. He looked on in morbid fascination when Hidan's body began to shake, and he slumped further into the couch than he had been before. With a lurch of dread he saw thin trails of his friend's blood drip onto the carpet; leaking from bleeding wounds made in his own legs by his own nails. He peered closer, annoyance mixing with anger in his brain when he noticed faint droplets glittering in Hidan's eyes, the poor sod was quietly yelping with arousal. Enough was enough. He slipped into the room.

"_You always were a dropout creep, and now you're a junkie aren't you?"_ he purred, deceptively calm and almost patronising. His hands slipped from the back of the couch he'd been hiding behind, and dropped to caress Hidan's hunched shoulders.

"Zet – Zetsu?" he quavered, urgently needing to push his own hands lower, but embarrassed by his friends close proximity. As he sat suffering, quaking and grinding his teeth together to stop from crying out, Zetsu continued his ministrations. Delicate fingers worked the stress out of his back muscles, but did little to ease the buzzing ache between his legs, in his stomach, or in his heart. He began to grow desperate, and a strangled tortured gasp broke from between his lips. He couldn't take this slow, warm agony any longer, and roughly forced his hands into his groin. Moist skin and hard hard flesh met his fingertips seconds later, and he bit back a moan of relief.

"Aaggh. . . mph!" he grunted, rubbing his palm back and forth while Zetsu looked on with barely concealed disgust. As he watched, Hidan's muscles and brain were claimed by yet another short sweet spasm. Helplessness had him crying out, growing more and more pathetic and less and less sane with every stroke. He_ hated_ feeling this.

Soon, Zetsu swept around to the front of the couch, his heart beating with malice and his eyes shining with bad intentions. Roughly he shrugged off his jacket, casting it to the dusty floor, and rolled up his sleeves. His long pale fingers were curling with anticipation as slowly he tugged the jeans from Hidan quivering legs, revealing the awful self inflicted injuries on his snowy white flesh. But still Zetsu reached further, past his shaking knees, past the bulge in Hidan's boxers, between his flaming hot cheeks . . .slowly, slowly . . . until,

"ahh – god, Z- Zet-su!" he huffed, knuckles turning white on the arm of the couch he was slumped in, and his eyes closing tightly with pleasure. His head rolled softly back, and he gasped, relishing the heavenly relief Zetsu was delivering. His cold finger rocked steadily back and forth, pressing him in all the right places, and nearly driving him blindly over the edge. He bit his lip, allowing blood to trickle over his face and drip seductively into his lap, he was drowning, drowning in ecstasy.

Until all too suddenly, the cool digit was removed.

"ah Zetsu . . . son of a –argh- bitch!" he moaned, hips unwillingly lifting and falling. He tried to kick out, to hurt Zetsu in some way but found his legs immovable as always. Instead, his friend simply threw him a pillow,

"Cover yourself" he sneered as Hidan's whines and gasps reached a whole new level of urgency. He bucked frantically into the cushion, holding it tight against his sweltering crotch, and gritting his teeth with need.

"Gah –god –I . . ._help!_" he moaned, sweat sticking his hair to his head. He watched with dismay as Zetsu slowly turned his back and quietly left the lounge, leaving him suffering through the worst night he could possibly remember. Desperation reached a crescendo, and wildly he struck out, seizing the side of the couch and pushing himself out and onto the floor. His legs gave way instantly, plunging him face first into the filthy carpet, but he struggled on- using his arms like he'd seen army men do on the TV. A few painful minutes later he was panting for air, reaching for the handle of the fridge, his legs splayed out on the freezing tiles. The white light gushed out as his hand rushed in, anxiously clutching the lithe green vegetable he knew rested just within the door. Within seconds he was flat on his back, eyes squeezed shut, legs askew and the passion riding him hard. Then with a gasp of guilt and release he drove the object inside.

"Oh _oh fuck_" he hissed, tears of joy rolling down his burning cheeks and joining the sweat in his chest. Further still he forced it, pumping and pushing it until he felt sure the end was nigh.

"Deeper! _Deeper!_" he cried, his screams getting louder as pleasure gave way to pain, the tell tale warm trickle of blood began to trail down his skin, but still he could not stop. With wails of agony, he dug the foreign object further and further into himself, eyes squinted shut against the flood of crimson that was beginning to form.

Back in the bedrooms, people were starting to awake, roused by the screaming and the shouting. Kakuzu was one of the first on his feet, storming out of his borrowed room and into the kitchen without bothering to check the clock. With Hidan, the hour of the day didn't usually matter. He pushed the door wide, flicked on the light, and was met with a scene of blood, pain and frenzied lust.

"Kuzu! Urgh! Hah!" the man on the floor cried, clutching himself in one hand while thrusting crazily with the other. "H-help . . .p-please!"

Kakuzu didn't hesitate for a moment, pride forgotten; he was at his friend's side in an instant. Knocking Hidan's own hands away he began pumping him furiously, setting a harsh quick rhythm. He needed release fast, or something somewhere would have to give. He ignored the albino's cries, and the pool of blood he was kneeling in, until he gave one last shudder and hot warmth flooded over them both. No words were exchanged. Nothing needed to be said.

Soon, Hidan was fast asleep, wrapped in numerous blankets resting tiredly next to Konan in the only spare bed in the house. His light, even breathing was a world away from the raw howls that ripped through the house not so long ago. Beside him, a pair of eyes watched over him, in the same way a father watches over his sons. Selflessly making sure he stayed relaxed, stayed still and gave in to the cool haven of sleep.


	7. Silent return

Ratio 7! Omg was going to be the last chapter, but I'm afraid theres still one more to come ;)

It's raining. The sky is grey and even the sparkling headlights of the cars on the motorway look miserable. The man standing behind the glass watching the drizzle slipped his hand into the scratchy pocket of his tweed jacket, retrieving a fob watch. He flicked it open, checked the time, and fell back to watching the tiny droplets of freezing water coat the pane. It was mid-afternoon, sometime in January when the Christmas and New Year excitement had faded, and everyone was slaving away at work once more. Well, that was the norm anyway.

"Unscrupulous pervert . . ." he muttered to himself, referring to his albino flatmate as yet another groan of longing reached his ears from the back of the house. He'd kept his opinions in check since that night a few weeks back, turning to his gentlemanly qualities to see him through. But even courteousness and tolerance could only go so far; his ears rang with Hidan's frenzied cries and desperate moans while behind his eyes his hate quietly simmered. Only a few more days and he'd be back on his way to the comfort of university, those landscaped gardens and freshwater fountains. He sighed; he'd like nothing more than to sit down to a good debate on the Merits of Flaubert with his doctorate friends and –

"urrghh . . . _God_, Dei-chan I _- hah_!"

"Seemingly indefatigable . . ." Zetsu cursed again, his fists clenching around the glass of port he was nursing. Narrowing his eyes he wondered where Hidan got his limitless libido from, and at what point along the line his self respect had dissolved. He stared down into the blood coloured liquid, imagining the cracked leather chairs, smoke filled drawing rooms and elegance of Sasori's apartments where they drank together on numerous occasions. He recalled evenings spent sitting together in the Gentlemen's clubs around the university village, and the sophisticated cabaret lounges. He drifted in and out of his past, all the while trying to drown out Hidan's urgent sobs for carnal attention.

The rain continued, setting in for the afternoon and blending the various shades of grey into one disenchanting portrait. Come 5 in the evening, Zetsu was sitting alone in the freezing lounge, an uneaten tray of microwave food lying by his feet. He assumed Deidara would be along at some point to gobble it up, as soon as he'd finished waking Hidan. The sick man had been sleeping, he slept most days on and off in the bedroom by the TV . . .

Just as the thought was crossing his mind, the door creaked open, weakly pushed by Hidan's pale hand. Deidara stood in the semi darkness behind, slowly pushing Hidan out into the light.

"M-my legs" he whispered with a slight air of pain in his voice, "they _ache_"

"They will" Deidara replied sombrely, leaning over and massaging the top of his thigh. It was a completely innocent gesture without any sexual overtones, but even Zetsu could see the hunger stirring in Hidan's dark eyes.

"Aghh" he bit down on a grunt of frustration as Deidara helped him out of his chair, and down onto the sofa next to Zetsu. He sunk into the soft pillows, slumping back and closing his eyes. Whenever he was moved the terrible itch awoke again. Right now all he needed was to close his eyes, purse his lips and concentrate, just concentrate on not letting out that... that -

"urrghhh!" he moaned, clenching his fist on the arm of the chair and willing his feverish heat to subside. Stiffly he grabbed a pillow and forced it over his groin, pushing up into it to relieve the strain and gritting his teeth with fresh arousal. It didn't help that a food commercial was running on TV, mere feet away, one of those seductive ones that tries to get people all hot and bothered over the latest porridge oats. Trouble was this one was aiming to get people buying sausages.

"_Fuck_" he whimpered miserably, feeling hot, achy sensations growing between his legs and in his stomach. It wouldn't be long, and he didn't want Zetsu to see, not again. He glanced down, to his left so he didn't have to meet his friend's eyes and slowly slipped his hand down to rest upon his straining erection. With every tiny stoke heavy gasps escaped his lips, and he cast a sheepish look at the commercial again, feeling a hot gush of excitement. His chest heaved and his mouth was torn open allowing air to rush past his dry lips. He exhaled slowly, trying desperately to calm himself, but knowing even his best attempts were useless. An aching, throbbing sensation began to overcome him, his fingers and toes were beginning to tingle, and still it was not over.

"Oh . . .I. . .can't!-" he breathed, bucking into his own hand, knowing he couldn't handle this, and no one was going to help him this time. Faster he pumped himself, caring not for the glances of the others, only his own relief. He could feel himself growing harder and hotter, his breaths getting faster and his groans getting louder. He was probably drowning out the TV by now but it didn't matter, only a few more seconds. . A few more . . . a few –

"H a – a r g h!" he hissed, coming quietly and hanging his head so no one could see the glorious release shining in his eyes.

After a few moments of dazed satisfaction and shame, he felt a kind hand on his shoulder,

"Hidan, do you need to – I mean, do you want to clean up?" his blonde friend asked,

"It's – it's ok" he choked, "I'm . . . wearing a condom. I thought this would happen. . . I was right" he gave a short humourless laugh. Delving into his jeans he grimaced as he slipped himself free, thanking the small plastic thing for saving at least a scrap of his dignity. While Zetsu looked on in utter dismay, he removed the offending item, threw it into a waste paper basket across the room and sat back looking tired.

" . . .!" Zetsu commented in shock as the boring mediocre show flickered back into life. His life for the past few weeks had been about as interesting as daytime television, he needed a break from this petty existence. Just as thoughts of despair were rolling round his head like waves, Konan burst into the room with her phone in her hand and her handbag in the other.

"We're going out!" she announced, smudged make up and messy hair indicating she'd been crying again, but over what nobody ever knew. Pein was clinging to her shoulder, swaying slightly. It didn't look like he needed another trip to the pub, but Konan was adamant that she wasn't going alone,

"I can't drive and he's too drunk" she whined, "Kakuzu we need your van -"

"an' you 'ave to drive it" Pein giggled, pointing into the taller man's face as he appeared from the hallway,

"I've just got back!" he protested, but was drowned out by both Zetsu and Deidara's clamouring for a trip out.

"There's nothing on telly . . ."

"You deserve to relax . . ."

"C'mon why not?" Zetsu rounded off the argument, convincing their designated driver to unlock the van and let them in . . .

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It was in this way that half an hour later, head still woozy from last night's hit, Hidan found himself being pushed into the dingy pub.

He felt inside his wallet, and unsurprisingly had no money to buy anyone a drink. He knew where it had all gone; the evidence was sitting snugly in his jeans pocket, and amazingly he felt no guilt. His skin was slowly turning greyer, his wounds had stopped healing and he hadn't eaten for what seemed like days, but somehow he didn't care.

"mmh" he grimaced as Deidara lent him a hand to help him out of his chair, and he almost fell short of the bar couch he was aiming to reach. His cheeks burned red as his independence slid away and his legs were caught and manoeuvred by Deidara's warm hands. They ached so much he couldn't move them an inch, and as he sat, familiar urges spread like wildfire through his veins.

"Oh!" he gasped, "shouldn't have . . moved . . . so fast – mmph!"

He slipped a single hand down to rest over his crotch, steadying his breathing and trying to recover his calm. While he sat catching his breath, Deidara pulled up a chair next to him, scrutinizing his bony frame and offering him some peanuts. Meekly he shook his head, shivering as he felt cold sweat trickling down his back, he felt so awful, how long had it been since his last fix?

He gazed over as the others began wandering back from the bar carrying their drinks. He was grateful that Deidara had sat with him, even if he'd had money for a drink he couldn't exactly stand at the bar with the rest of them. He looked down in shame; in his chair he couldn't even see over the counter.

"-donning a tailcoat and a bowtie is not sufficient to be properly dressed!" Zetsu exclaimed chatting to a drunken Pein as the two sat down nearby. Hidan watched him, transfixed. He secretly admired his old fashioned dress sense, and was excruciatingly jealous of his upper class life,

"With whisky," he continued, swirling his drink, "anything less than a three year old malt is simply atrocious! One has to unlock it character . . ."

His voice trailed off as he noticed the pale face and even paler gaze of Hidan trained on him,

"What? You freeloading morally corrupt social milieu" he sneered, narrowing his eyes at the other man sitting helpless across the table from him.

"Zetsu –I" he raised his palms as if in defence. He had known he was hated, but he never knew Zetsu despised him this badly,

"Failure's always the safest option eh?" he continued softly, referring casually to their opposing lifestyles in a voice barely above a whisper.

Deciding to bring a little class back into the dire situation, he fumbled in his pockets for the gorgeous jewelled box Sasori had given him as a going away present. Its lid was beautiful engraved gold, sweeping down to matching twin hinges. Precious stones adorned the sides, and engraved into the bottom were Zetsu's own initials. The inside was made of equally pure gold, shining a gorgeous burnt yellow colour. It was almost a competition at University to have the best snuff box. Zetsu felt he was top of the heap with his and his friend's sophisticated hobby. He took a pinch of the toffee coloured nicotine powder and delicately sniffed it. It smelled lightly of tobacco.

Zetsu glared back down at the others again, haughtily alert and dusting his nose with a silk handkerchief. He was the perfect picture of class and sophistication, and he knew it.

"Time for another round, gents" he announced with a flashing smile, and swept up to the bar with everyone in tow, the whiskey was pouring like water and they weren't about to miss out.

Hidan was left sitting alone, amongst the cheap furniture that smelled of stale beer, sitting as if in a void. He shivered again, feeling more miserable than ever before. He felt like a nothing, a nobody. He squinted across the bar, seeing his friends circling Zetsu, laughing and joking, and the thought occurred to him that all his friends were being swept away. That is . . . if they'd ever been his friends to start with. His cheeks flamed with anger and embarrassment.

"You hate me, you judge me and you always will . . ." he croaked, holding back a dry sob as his fists clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms. He felt a sweat break out over his brow as he sat, shaking with self pity. Negative thoughts raced round his cranium, conjuring up pictures of him being left behind, being forgotten, being shunned, all of which he was sure were about to happen. Its not paranoia he convinced himself, it's real, its what's lying behind their eyes at this very moment as they stand sipping someone else's drinks.

He shivered again as a brief breeze chilled the sweat on his back. He was sick of sitting here watching everyone else have fun. Enough was most certainly enough. He wanted to feel good.

With shaking hands he gripped the beer stained table, dragging himself to the edge of the couch. His teeth clenched on a rising moan as waves of arousal pulsed over him. The movement and exertion was triggering _it _again and he felt the chilly sweats turn fiery hot under his jacket. Another urgent sweep of his arm and he'd hooked the cold metal of his chair, weakly he dragged it closer, wondering how in hell he was supposed to move himself. Normally he'd give in to the help from others, grudgingly allowing them to manhandle his wasted legs and haul him up like a sack of potatoes. Not this time.

"uhh!" he grunted quietly, resisting the urge to place a heavy hand between his legs and simply give in, get it done right here. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his breaths come quicker and hair stick to his clammy cheeks.

With one almighty heave, he pushed himself from the squeaky fake leather sofa. A heart stopping moment of weightlessness later, he collided painfully with the side of his chair, falling into it and almost tipping it. The table shuddered and almost fell, nearly tumbling empty glasses with it in a cascade of splintering shards. He gasped, hunching his shoulders and thanking his lucky stars that no one had seen. Independence was a million miles away, and as for walking . . .

"Maybe not yet . . ." he hissed sarcastically, unable to move a muscle below his hips.

Slowly, he wheeled himself through the tables, heading for the cool sanctuary of the bathroom, the other end of the pub. With one single backwards glace he checked the expressions of those standing with Zetsu, they seemed happy, amused, even carefree. Expressions that hadn't been seen for years around here. A cold feeling settled in his stomach, almost chasing the hunger away completely. His palm touched the wood of the door, and with difficulty he was soon amongst the dirty white tiles, drippy taps and damp floor of the bathroom.

A window was open nearby, and he reached to pull it closed, realizing too late his hand barely swept the pane, let alone the clasp.

"Come on!" he cried, urging his fingertips to stretch another few millimetres.

A miserable sigh left his lips, and once safely among the shadows he searched again for his dishonourable release. Silently he pulled the glinting needle free from his pocket, everything was so quiet he could hear the gentle night rain pattering outside the window. Just a few more minutes and all of his fears would be gone till tomorrow. For a long moment he averted his eyes, letting his hands do everything on autopilot. They were shaking pretty badly now, his body was once again craving his drugs and soon he knew the convulsions would start. It was always the same, his hands were the first to go – shaking and making even the simplest of tasks impossible. Flu symptoms would come minutes later, making him feel sicker still, and after that his entire body began to quake. He didn't ever want it to come to that again.

He straightened with a gasp, feeling a pinch as his hands wound a belt tightly round his upper arm. The material was cold, cutting off the blood supply to his arm to make the hit that much stronger. Soon the familiar sting of the needle pushing through his skin had him clenching his teeth, and the painful pressure that followed almost brought tears.

After the poison flowed freely into his blue swollen veins, he pulled the syringe free, desperately re-filling it before he lost his head completely. He knew he'd need it later, maybe sooner if Zetsu kept up his game. A gradual haze flitted back and forth across his eyes as the last of his desperate sobs echoed away. Somewhere far away his chair creaked as he shifted position. The cool plastic gently slipped from his fingers, he was slowly losing his grip. Feelings of happiness and elation rose up, clouding his brain, and gradually he rocked forwards sleepily. The needle, released from his fingertips, fell clattering to the floor but he barely heard a sound. He wasn't in touch with the world anymore . . .

"Ahh" he sighed, warm air rushing over his lips as his clammy hands slipped on the armrests of his chair. His head hung limply, his shoulders dropped, he was falling . . . falling.

He hit the floor with a sickening crack, both knees bloody amongst old broken glass. He curled, his hair soaking up the dirty puddle water. He was barely conscious and the pain was little more than a dull throb. Dazed, he crawled to the wall, slumping up against it and taking one last glance around his world, before being utterly claimed by his own abysmal release.

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Outside, in the warm smoky fug of the bar, the clock on the wall began to chime. Zetsu sat and listened to its tuneful ring, counting the chimes and trying to work out how many hours had passed. Between the empty glasses and sticky beer mats he sat appreciating the small piece of history amongst the tacky furniture of the room. Somewhere to his left, over the array of peanut packets and dozing heads resting on the counter, a slot machine glittered. He stared at it again, daring it to jingle any louder than it already was. A neon sign above it read "Egyptian Gold" and quietly Zetsu stifled an ironic laugh. Nothing was sacred anymore. Even the Egyptian legends had been turned into a plastic glowing money trap.

"Z- tsu wassa time?" a husky voice to his left mumbled and he looked down into the bloodshot eyes of Pein. No one knew how many shots he'd downed, or how many pints he'd had before that. He hung limply onto the bar, looking peaky and pale. Next to him, Deidara was in the same state with his head planted in a half eaten bacon sandwich. Under his arm lay a greasy plate that had once been a fry up. He'd eaten that too. Now his snores reverberated round the group of them as they sat dazed and swaying. Only Kakuzu had refused a drink, remembering his precious van in the carpark.

He glanced at it through the fogged up window pane. City lights flickered and danced in the background as a light drizzle fell. The orange streetlights reflected from the first puddles that had formed, and a rainbow glow of oil lay around the van's huge tires. The night looked cold and uninviting, he'd much rather stay here in the warm, snuggled up to Konan. His hand drifted through her soft hair and her sleeping breaths tickled the skin on his neck. One glance down and he'd got an eyeful of her exposed cleavage, the corners of her racy underwear could just be seen poking out from her baggy top. He took a deep breath, remembering that she was not his woman to gaze at, and laid her beautiful head gently down on the bar. Better safe than sorry, he thought.

Through the thick smoke of yet another cigar, he exchanged knowing glances with Zetsu. The hour was late, and their friends fast asleep. It was probably time to leave.

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Back in the bathroom, Hidan was beginning to awake. His palms and clothes were damp from resting on the floor, and his hair was dark with sweat. Water dripped from his arm as he bent to examine the needle wound, but in contrast his mouth felt dry as a desert. His entire body ached, right from his immovable legs up to his stiff neck. Grimly he winced and rubbed his eyes, his limbs felt like lead and his head was up in the clouds.

The rain was still falling lightly outside the window, providing background sound to the dripping of taps and the silence. Painfully he shifted upright, gritting his teeth when heat flared deep down.

"Why . . . ?" he choked, more to the endless dark than to himself. The desire was rising again, the need for . . . for a touch, pressure . . . penetration. He whined uncontrollably, no longer able to hold back the tide of emotions. It was coming back again, the drugs couldn't dull the ache this time, his jeans were scratching him as they became tighter. It was agony.

As he sat strangling in the semi dark, the window he'd left open was pushed wide. A tanned hand found its way in, pushing the frosted glass up and letting in an icy blast of wind. The window knocked slightly on the bathroom wall, and the denim sleeve of the intruder was bathed in electric light. His breathing was ragged, as if he'd been running for a long time, and his hair was plastered to his face. He carried no luggage, and as his jacket swung and fell off it was clear his pockets were also empty. A dull thud reverberated around the room as his heavy boots hit the floor. He collapsed, panting; exhausted but happy.

"K – Kisa-" Hidan mumbled in confusion, wondering if the drugs had made him hallucinate. Dumbly he reached for the syringe he'd earlier cast aside. His thin fingernails splintering as he scratched his way across the floor. The ghosts of his past had come back to haunt him, despite his every effort. His bloodshot eyes strained to see clearly as his hands searched. He could sense the ghost's eyes on him, feel the cold prickle on the hairs of his neck. It seemed as if the dripping floor was turning to ice under his motionless legs and waves of fear crashed over him.

"d-don't come any closer" he whispered urgently, brandishing his last needle with false bravado. His hand was slipping on the tiles behind him, and with a grunt of effort that sent _delicious _spasms shivering through him, he propped himself up on the side of his chair.

Taking his eyes off the spectre for one short moment he tapped at his arm in a frenzy. _Make it go away!_ He begged.

"Now's no time to shoot up!" Kisame warned, taking a step towards his fallen friend. He was met with tearful bloodied eyes. Hidan was high, confused and desperate, so with a pang of sadness he'd felt constantly for months, he scooped him up and sat him in the chair. Instantly he slumped, head hanging low, hands plunging into the waistband of his jeans. His expression of distorted fear turned to a grimace and a low moan escaped his lips.

"Come on . . ." said Kisame through gritted teeth, snatching the needle from his limp fingertips and throwing it into the darkness. It landed with an empty click, but he barely heard, since the creak of the door opening drowned out the sound.

At once the smokey bar was opened up to them, all polished wooden counters and uncomfortable looking bar stools. The thin carpet underneath Deidara was scattered with crisps and crumbs, and the bar in front of Pein was swamped with spilled beer. It wouldn't have been long before they were kicked out anyway, but as soon as Kakuzu caught sight of Kisame's solemn face he jolted awake.

The low lighting illuminated the sudden fear in the taller mans eyes and his gaze darted to the TV, checking the news wasn't on. Kisame's release date wasn't for years yet, and he betted he hadn't been let out on good behaviour.

"Kisame . . . how?" he hissed, getting up from the bar and striding over, barely noticing Hidan as he sat slouched between them.

"We have to go. Now." He replied urgently, his voice little more than a low whisper. Nervously he checked the tables to their left and right, making sure he wasn't being watched or spied upon. His eyes raced around the room, searching out hidden cameras or nosy barmaids. He was on edge, and his fear was visible.

In a rush, Kakuzu handed over the bunch of keys, hastily bundling them into his friend's hands. The situation was serious, contemplated Hidan in a woozy daze as he stared up into their nervous faces. The prized van was being handed over, new interior and all. He was prevented from further thought, however, as another pulse of heat shot through him and his entire world dissolved. Slight nausea rose in his throat as his hunger became all consuming, but no one noticed. They were too busy bundling Pein out of the door, comforting Konan as she burst into fresh tears and trying to shift Deidara off the delicate barstool without breaking it.

Zetsu was gathering up all his own things, making his way across the floor in a stately fashion with his head held high. He didn't stop and help when empty plates crashed to the floor as Deidara awoke, mumbling and holding his aching belly. He didn't look down when Pein's knees gave out and he collapsed drunkenly to the polished wood floor, and he didn't stop and help to move Hidan out into the chilly night air. He strolled past, ignoring that both Hidan's hands were taken up with the burning task of satisfying himself, and there was no way he could wheel himself alone.

"guhh . . . ahh . . ." he grunted shamefully as Zetsu sauntered past, creating a breeze of old alcohol scented air. The door opened and closed behind him, sending the chilly air whistling right through his thin clothes. Silence had fallen again, and he waited, agonizing, until someone with a spare pair of hands came back to get him. By then his legs were on fire with pain, and his stomach muscles were complaining with the strain of suppressed urges.

The gravel of the car park crunched under the harsh metal wheels as he was taken outside into the night. The back doors of the truck stood ajar, and as he watched he saw Zetsu clamber inside with a sneer on his face. Clearly he'd expected a front seat.

Kakuzu had already started the engine, sending black smoke and pollution into his face. He coughed, and it stung his eyes but soon he was clutched tightly to the chest of the person who'd come back for him. His weak legs dangled down until they too were scooped up and his chair bundled into the back of the van. He rested his head on the shoulder in front of him. It was very soft, with equally soft hair tickling his nose. The flesh under his fingers was soft, too and he grabbed it a little harder earning a light gasp.

"Hidan you little - " he began, but was cut off as the albino squirmed free and landed in the passenger seat of the van. Grudgingly, Deidara took the next one to him. He'd wanted to avoid a window seat, especially at this hour, but he kept the thought to himself. Some things were better off not shared.

So as the morning light began to illuminate the sky in colours of pink and blue, the van hit the motorway. The tarmac stretched out endlessly, promising futures or prosperity. Neither of which were likely amongst the group. Their four wheels were the only ones on the lonely strip of road, and the noise of the engine was the only sound for miles around.

Nothing existed to mark their miles, except Hidan's own ragged breathing and the ground passed under them rapidly as they sped off into the distance.


	8. One Last Time

_Having reached that conclusion that I should really publish before this chapter grows even longer, here is Ratio chapter 8. If I haven't scared you all by now, hold onto something cos I'm about to . . ._

_Enjoy!_

_Lychenne Laki_

Lights flickered in front of my closed eyelids. A slight jolt must have shaken me awake but the warm fug of the van cab almost lulled me back into my slumber. The hum and rattle of the engine was almost hypnotic, as was the quiet buzz of conversation coming from the back. I wriggled uncomfortably, feeling the life come back into my bones. Blearily I peered around, and it was then I realized the jolt of the road was not what had woken me.

It wasn't the sound of traffic, and it wasn't the pale morning sun shining through the windows that had shaken me from sleep. It wasn't the uncomfortable bench seat, or the constant gnawing hunger that stirred in my gut. It was him.

Looking over his frail form on the seat nearby, I felt a wave of despair crash over me. His body was trembling, traumatized. Cold sweats slid down his forehead and there was nothing I could do. An aurora hung over him, of sickness, and worse. His breathing was light, barely noticeable compared to the harsh gasps from earlier. I was thankful for his sleeping state; at least he was out of reality for now, away from the worst of the pain. We sat side by side, me gently massaging his legs as they twitched. I guessed he could feel them aching even as he slept.

It had been a trial, from that dreadful night of slashing steel and hot, fresh blood, to these wasted days of hurt. The last stab had been the worst, delivered straight through his delicate ribs and into the pulsing core. Into his heart. I could only imagine the blinding agony Hidan must have felt that night. Laying cold and dazed on the blood soaked pavement, his heartbeats grew weaker as the blade cut deeper. Even after weeks stretched out on a hospital mattress, the muscles were rendered into a mass of scar tissue incapable of keeping a grown man alive.

In the first few weeks after being discharged, I remembered numerous tearful attempts at trying to re-teach Hidan to walk. All of which were heartbreaking to behold. His mutilated heart couldn't pump blood as strongly as before, and his legs grew weak and pale. He would pant and struggle after just a few minutes, having to rest helplessly before trying again. All the while, hiding his growing addiction from those closest to him. Even me.

But the day the doctor prescribed the meds was the day it all came out.

It was the day the hospital presented us with that small box of pills, with important looking writing on the side, and long winded latin names on the top. They'd help with the pain, they said, and prevent an attack . . . or worse.

I still remember the night the drugs first mixed in his brain, stirring urges he hadn't felt for months. It was a terrible thing to behold, the screaming, the begging and well, we know the rest now.

On his other side, at the wheel of the van, Kakuzu met my saddened eyes with a forlorn gaze of his own. Ever since he'd found out Hidan was crippled, he'd made it his task to look after him. Even now, steering us into a new life, one hand lay protectively upon Hidan's shaking thigh.

"Urrgghh . . . mmm" he moaned, deep in his throat. His body moved slightly as his stomach muscles contracted with need, but still he did not awake. The fever raged through him, unchecked in its progress to utterly destroy his dignity. I turned my head away, suddenly preferring not to see.

The van continued on its rumbling journey over the roads, never slowing. I cast my eyes towards the windows, staring out over the mundane landscape, feeling bored. A neon sign flickered into life ahead, and intrigued I leaned in for a better look. I fixed my eyes on it as we drew closer, but realized too late it was just another billboard for a fast food chain. I gulped then, feeling a hunger growing larger inside me. It hadn't been long since I'd gorged myself on the food at the pub, but it was coming back, fast.

Slowly I felt for my wallet, fingers searching for some notes, wanting to stop at the restaurant for at least long enough to get a burger . . . or three.

"Kakuzu could we . . ." I began, but I was silenced with a look that could have frozen the balls off a brass monkey.

"We have a wanted criminal in the back, and you want to stop to fill your already overstuffed belly?" he sneered, fingers gripping the wheel that much harder. "Look at you, still covered in crumbs and grease, it's disgusting, you can't keep your hands off of it."

The comment shook me down to my feet. How could he be so flippant, and so hypocritical? Was he not sitting right next to a man who was a victim of his own desires? And then to deny me my own, it seemed cruelly ironic. Frustrated I glanced back out of the window again, imagining hot salty fries in my pudgy hands, with tangy ketchup in a sachet on the side. A cold milkshake, large of course, and a burger all juicy and stuffed with onions and cheese. Oh and one of those doughnuts all covered in that sugar that stuck to your lips, the ones they did with the gooey chocolate inside . . .

"Mmm" I groaned in annoyance. The sweet smells of fried bacon and crispy chicken began to waft inside the cab as we drove past painfully slowly. I cursed the heavy traffic on the roads, why did we have to slow down now?

People sat outside the restaurant, feasting, and it smelled delicious. Bags with faint trails of wispy white steam were clutched in their palms while inside the cardboard boxes, crunchy chicken nuggets rested on beds of fat chips. Hot wrapped packages of steaming food lay in their hands, and in their arms all soft and oh so edible. I could just imagine the hot burger juice dribbling down my chin, then further down into my throat. The sticky sauce on all ten of my chunky fingers, breadcrumbs on my jacket.

Or maybe I'd skip right to desert, treat myself to one of the delicious creamy ice cream cones. I licked my lips, tasting the imaginary flavour. In my minds eye, crumbling chocolate flakes tumbled over my chin and collected on my rotund belly, while the same chocolate melted and smeared my pouting lips . . .

"Fuck . . ." I mumbled, in sudden embarrassment. The constant fantasizing was having effects, somewhere id rather not speak about. I shifted uncomfortably and took a deep breath, but the scents of freshly cooked meat and fried onions flew straight to my brain, making things worse still.

"Control it, Dei" a voice murmured to my left. It was Kakuzu, his voice low and dangerous, and his eyes dark. But even his sombre tones couldn't stop my craving. I wanted to pig out, stuff my face, and for no reason other than the growing _emptiness _in the pit of my stomach. I visualized myself tucking in to a bursting bag of fries, all golden and oily and couldn't help a silent tremor of pleasure from gliding through me. Slowly I slipped my hand down, undoing my zip as quietly as possible, thanking the humming of the engine for masking the small sound. I was sitting by the door with Hidan's sleeping body was between me and Kakuzu. He wouldn't take his eyes off the road for anything, therefore he couldn't see me.

Guilt ravaged my thoughts, but if I couldn't give in to one craving I'd have to succumb to the other. Running my warm hand over myself I spread my legs a little, not enough to cause anyone to look, but just enough to get the job done. Our van was still crawling past the restaurant at a snails pace, I hoped no one would look in on me, but was still anxious for us not to drive off before I was finished. The scents and smells fuelled my desire, pushing me forwards into my sinful act.

I clenched my teeth, slowly teasing myself. Flashes of all the things I wanted sprung forth in my mind, and the pent up frustration succeeded in speeding my hand. My throat was soon raw from panting, and my lips sore from repeatedly licking them. I ached to taste salt or sugar upon them, and yet there was nothing. Eyes squinted closed to better picture my fantasies, I gripped myself harder, making up for the absence of soft, hot packages of calorie ridden fast food that I so desperately craved.

"Ahh . . ." I hissed, pushing my feet firmly against the rubber floor covering, and laying my blonde head back. A low down feeling of heat began to build, slowly but surely, but instead of eliminating my urges it only seemed to fan their flames.

"Oh! God!" I moaned before I could stop myself, hands working harder and faster. My body was rocking in time with my pumping fist, and I was holding back the urge to push,

But next to me, someone was beginning to stir.

"Dei . . . I . . . its hot in here." Hidan murmured sleepily, trying to sit up straighter before he remembered his legs were little more than dead weights. I prayed upon every lucky star in space that he wouldn't see me, wouldn't look on as my fingers rushed over my fevered flesh. But it was already too late. Far too late.

His young eyes scanned my screwed up face, clenched teeth and clammy skin, before drifting down . . . lower. . My jeans lay open at the crotch, with my hand disappearing inside, it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize what was going on. I peered across at him, without slowing my pace, and saw his face displayed a beautiful blush, but restless urges flickered in his eyes.

"Wha- argh, that's . . . _t-too hot_" he panted, barely awake but already aroused.

Small warning bells began to chime in my head as I watched the widening of his eyes, the speeding of his breath. I ought to have realized what was going on, but my own selfish needs pushed common sense right out of my mind. My eyes shut once again, and tantalising pictures began to stoke the fires of my passion. Images of greasy pizza and juicy steaks flared in my minds eye, and my ballooning frame was soon shaking with the effort of holding my moans inside.

It wasn't until I felt a smaller body shaking next to me that I finally opened my eyes.

"Oh! Aghh . . . help" Hidan groaned gruffly, stomach muscles so tensed that he was hunched over painfully. He grasped himself tightly with his right hand, so forcefully I knew he must be in agony. Veins stood out on his arms, and his face registered a look of intense desperation. He was barely breathing, every fibre of his body was tensed, trying to hold back his impulses.

"Mmm!" he grunted again, nails digging into the palm of his free hand. I cursed myself then, for being so mindless and selfish. The slightest thing could set him off, the tiniest thing could have him screaming and shaking again and again, yet I'd blundered right in, satisfied myself right in front of his sleeping eyes.

"Hah _hah_" he groaned, and an animal sound slipped through his lips. He was suffering horribly, his skin was feverishly hot and his eyes were closed with humiliation. Hesitantly, I leaned forwards, towards his ear

"It'll alright," I whispered, "you're among friends . . ."

A heavy heated breath hissed from between his clenched teeth, and his crippled legs twitched

"I- I . . . Dei – I" he panted, eyes squeezed shut

"Let it out." I commanded slowly, watching his small mouth begin to open, and a low groan vibrated through the cab,

"_uurrrgghh . . _." The sound seemed to ripple though me, through the air. A sound of utmost distress and wretchedness. His pale hand began to move, slowly at first then faster and faster.

By now Kakuzu had taken his eyes off the road to stare in horror at the scene unfolding inside his van. Me, with my jeans wide open and my hand barely covering my decency, coupled with the suspicious dampness of my underwear. Then in between us, Hidan sat shuddering violently and grunting with discomfort. It was plain for even Kakuzu to see his hardness pressing so tightly against the crotch of his jeans.

"Not –not in my van!" he spluttered, spying Hidan's hand racing back and forth. "I've just had the seats re-covered. The new leather! Cost a small fortune!"

"Hold on Hidan" I comforted him as Kakuzu snatched at his right hand while I gently took his left. He was left helpless, confined inside the denim prison that was all too small to contain him. The shakes grew steadily worse with every minute that passed, and his tormented cries grew ever louder. He clung to us in speechless gasping agony, body tensing then slumping back as he prepared for the next wave to hit him.

"AARRGGHH!" he burst out, trying to thrust but finding his body immobile. Tears of shame trickled from the corners of his eyes as he tried to tear his arms free of our grip.

"_Please!_" he begged, pursing his lips as another high pitched yelp threatened to break from his throat. His eyes were open, but wandering and unseeing. His clothes were feeling damp from sweat, and his wrists were beginning to bruise from my attempts to restrain him.

"Not far now" I murmured, and met Kakuzu's infuriated eyes, begging him to pull over.

Who knew what would happen if we carried on this way? There was so much pressure on his weak heart; we could lose him at any moment. How long had it been since he'd taken his meds? I had no idea; all he seemed to be taking regularly was his drugs. I could tell from the way his cheeks were hollow and gaunt, his hair hung limply around his ears and his skin was pockmarked with little red holes.

Even while I pondered the thought, I felt his thin arms trembling in my grasp. His body was thrashing around, while he groaned in agony and frustration. Helpless, I looked on as he shook and jerked uncontrollably,

"He's having a fit!" I shouted, "you have to pull over!"

"Shut up!" Kakuzu yelled across the cab, swerving through lines of traffic to reach a small lay by. Trucks and lorries screamed out of our way, leaving black tracks on the roadside and scratches on our paintwork. But even the prized van didn't matter anymore, pulling into a filthy lay-by he slammed on the breaks, making us all lurch forwards,

"Anyone who doesn't want to witness this, get in the front. Now" he bellowed, jumping down onto the cold tarmac and leaving the engine humming. While he leaned back in to pull Hidan free, I ran round to the back and hauled on the giant metal doors. Pein jumped down first, eager to get a seat in the front as quick as humanly possible. Kisame followed closely behind him, willingly taking up the driver's place and slamming the door with a crash. The risk of being spotted by cops didn't matter anymore, anything was better than the atmosphere back there.

Sat in the darkness of the van, Konan was in two minds whether to leave the safety of the windowless box. She glanced towards the doors and the rumbling motorway beyond, and then looked back across at Zetsu.

He shrugged, "take my seat" he declared nobly, "this is no place for a woman"

Sitting back against the wall amongst some rotted army surplus blankets, he made it clear he had no intention of leaving, and delicately Konan hopped out into the daylight and made her way around. Outside in the turbulent polluted air, she crossed paths with Kakuzu. Murderous anger glinted in his eyes, and in his arms he carried Hidan, who was bucking and twisting with all the strength he had. Small gasps and pleas left his lips unheard, and his nails dug deep into the back of Kakuzu's jacket.

I held the doors wide, attempting to look respectfully away as Hidan was laid carefully on the floor in a shaking heap. He could do little to move himself, so once the doors were secured and we were once again confined in darkness, I took up my place by his side.

The dank darkness stank of a mix of alcohol, paraffin and old cigarettes, enough to turn my stomach before I saw the revolting floors. The space was cramped, made worse by Hidan's wheelchair taking up a great deal of the room. Still, I stood by him, laying my hands on his chest as he tossed and turned.

"I'm here, Hidan" I breathed, running my hands over him and feeling his lust still burning strongly. Waves of heat radiated from him, together with shivers of sickness and need,

"Dei – _please . . ._" he choked, face contorted in bitter defeat

It had been far too long, beyond reason and logic, and so in the dark I began to unwrap his brittle form. I could feel Kakuzu's eyes boring into me; this was my fault, so I had to face up to the consequences of my actions. It was my fault that Hidan laid jerking and crying on the cold plastic floor, my mistake to make right. Gradually the space around us filled up with discarded shoes, limp shirts and creased trousers, until it was just me and him, skin on fevered skin. Lying almost as one, reduced to our bare nakedness under the watchful eyes of others. . He looked even tinier next to me, his skin even more pinched and grey. All the result of the life he led, I guessed. I cared not for my jiggling figure, voluptuous exposed hips or plump belly, he cared not for his translucent skin and weak limbs. Heat passed between us as our bodies pushed together, him crying out for it just to be over.

Nails scraped down my back, drawing faint traces of blood as my fingers explored his entrance. He was burning hot, tensed tightly and moaning more desperately with every second. I felt cruel, prolonging his agony but these steps had to be taken. I'd seen him bleed, and I didn't want him to go through it a second time.

"mmph!" he grunted as suddenly two of my fingers slipped deep inside of him. A sick desire flared inside me at the same moment. A desire to hear him make that noise again,

My fingers shunted in further, plunging deep into his heat. I felt his walls closing around me with every fresh burst of arousal and with each one came an agonizing breathless moan. I felt his sounds rather than heard them, we were so close now, my pulse was mingling with his as I lay near his chest, near to his heart.

But soon, my actions alone were not enough to keep the beast at bay,

I took a deep breath, lowering my head and preparing myself for something I'd never forget, something they'd never let me forget. Hesitantly, my moistened tongue flicked out, slicking around his quivering warmth with an angelic delicacy. His legs began to shake once more, and encouraged I probed deeper. What I was doing was probably taboo, forbidden, disgusting, but I just couldn't get enough of those sounds,

The air filled with them, the moans and the grunts of passion and urgent need, until my tongue was thrusting harder than I ever thought it could. The ache in my jaw was curling up through my face, until we were joined by a solitary link of saliva that I couldn't help but leave.

"Dei . . . now . . _. end it_" he murmured, too far gone to make coherent sense. His eyes were mercifully shut, so he didn't see me ready myself, poised at his blushing hole then greedily plunge inside.

"ARRGGHH" he screamed, the sound was brutal, animalistic, but soon he fell limply into my arms. The relief was unimaginable, his eyes rolled and his back arched. I kept up my rhythm, pushing in and out again, satisfying him the way no one ever had before. His teeth were clenched on his lips and blood was running down his chin but I never paused to wipe it away. His expression was one of crazed hunger while his body was convulsing with pleasure and tension. Small gasps and whimpering noises came from his throat, which was soon raw and hoarse,

"Please . . . harder" he wept, and I surged into him with renewed force. His legs were bent and twisted to the left and right of me, his arms were crossed behind my neck, and mine were slammed against the floor as the van lurched and swerved on the road. My hips bucked, following a fast and heavy rhythm all of their own and I gritted my teeth as I felt him quiver underneath me. I'd hit that spot, that beautiful place deep inside of him. Taking hold of his bony shoulders I pushed again, making sure to hit the same place again and again repeatedly, forcing him closer to the edge.

The slow vibrations of the van only served to fuel his arousal to greater height, and it wasn't long before he was hanging on tightly, his chest heaving up and down and his breaths coming hot and damp on my shoulder. His desperation was fiercer than I'd ever seen it, and I realized then that the blame fell heavily on me. I'd spurred him on, then made him wait.

"I'm sorry" I muttered into his ear without pausing, "I should have known you couldn't . . ."

My sentence was cut short when I felt him tense violently. Every muscle was suddenly tight, and his breathing had utterly stopped. Fear struck me, was it his heart? As I waited with baited breath, staring down at his tortured form, he let out a long drawn out breath, and on the heels of it rumbled a deep satisfied groan. Half a second later, the floor to my right was splattered with hot seed and his body went utterly limp.

"H-hidan?" I whispered, my eyes wide with worry

"He's gone" Zetsu muttered in a flippant tone from inside the darkness of a corner. "He'll be out for a few hours I'd estimate."

I opened my mouth to argue, but remembered Zetsu was doing a medical degree, and would recognise a faint when he saw one.

Instead I checked his breathing which was beautifully calm, and laid him down to rest as best I could. The floor was cold and dirty, and someone as sick as him should have been wrapped up more warmly than in a few blankets. The ex-army sheets looked rough and scratchy, so I laid my own jacket under his sleeping head. The van shook lightly as I retreated to my seat by the wall, setting my own belly jiggling from left to right under my XXL t-shirt. I looked down at myself with a tiny spark of niggling shame, as silence filled the truck once more. My jeans were probably some monstrous size, unheard of to most high street shops, and my jacket (which was now covering Hidan) could have housed a small family.

But it wasn't my fault! I just couldn't resist the mountains of food that lay in shops and restaurants only millimetres away from my fingertips.

It hadn't been like this when I was small. I remembered the little hovel my mother rented out, one room and four square walls were all we needed. We lived up on the 3rd floor, and every time I went out it was a trip up the 100 –odd steps. All I had to wear in my childhood were cast-down clothes from older siblings, which were soon faded and loose on my childlike figure. Likewise, all we could afford to eat was stale bread and vegetables from the allotment behind the colossal block of flats. I can still recall mum boiling up month old spuds in a tin washing basin, standing in her apron and bare feet.

But now, with a fair amount of money in my pudgy fist and a million and one places to shop. I couldn't help but lose it every time we walked past a burger shop or milkshake bar. It was as if I was making up for my youth, and I had no choice in the matter. Before I knew it, I was inside the shop grabbing bags of crisps and handfuls of candy bars, or choosing something extra large from the menu's on the walls of all those chip shops. Bacon sarnies were a favourite, bought from the cheapest, greasiest roadside cafe. The salty meat and cold ketchup felt so good in my mouth that I nearly always bought three or more. Food these days was cheaper than anything else, and I couldn't wait to cram every morsel into my mouth, and savour every last scrap of flavour.

"Guuhhh" a voice murmured from the darkness. I guessed I must have dozed off. The silence and the steady rocking of the van had lulled me into a slumber, helped by the cloying murkiness and heat back here. My back was stiff and my bum felt numb, I guessed I'd been out for a couple of hours, and by the slowing of the van I guessed we'd reached our destination. I sat up straighter, my jeans creaking and complaining, and my joints clicking in time. Snores came from the corner where I'd last seen Zetsu, and a slightly darker patch of darkness gave the clues as to where Kakuzu now sat. Hidan was still alone on the squalid floor, twitching slightly as he awoke.

I shuffled to his side, feeling growing pangs of hunger stir in my gut, while noticing signs of his own hunger etched on his face. He was craving it again.

My worries were knocked aside when the doors were suddenly thrown open.

Kisame stood before us, his shirt creased from long hours of driving and his hair looked almost blue in the light of the early evening. Twilight was descending, and the sun was already dipping well below the horizon. A faint drizzle coated his eyelashes in a million tiny droplets, and they hung in the air as well – glinting from the red tail lights of the van. The effect was surreal. But despite my captivation, the smell of engine oil and jet fuel blew out of the night and into my face.

_We must be near an airport_, I thought, awestruck; I'd never been on a plane before. I expected Kisame to simply leave the doors open and go and turn off the engine, but instead he dipped his head and climbed inside. I saw him whisper a few words into Kakuzu's ear, who nodded gravely and turned to Hidan who was still laid out on the floor.

"You have to leave it here" he murmured, not too loudly as he didn't want me to hear, but I instantly knew what he meant. By the way Zetsu suddenly sat bolt upright, I guessed he realized as well. It made sense, we were already smuggling a wanted criminal through the airport, trying to do the same with class A drugs would have been a step too far. I felt a stab of foreboding, this wasn't going to be pretty.

"_What?"_ he growled, trying to sit up but failing miserably. His hands kept slipping on the floor, and his arms weren't strong enough to support him. His legs lay spread eagled, and Kakuzu knelt between them,

"Give it here, you can't take it with you" he muttered, rifling through Hidan's pockets as he struggled upright.

"No! Wait! _What are you d_-" he spluttered, watching helplessly as the small plastic bag was whipped from his pocket and held far out of his reach, "please . . .don't do this Kakuzu!" he pleaded, not caring how pathetic or desperate he sounded.

"It's either us, or this" he scowled, jiggling the bag and the powdery contents within, and for one sickening moment, there was silence while Hidan contemplated his choice. Decades of deadness seemed to pass, with only my stunned breath to pass the time, until finally he opened his small round mouth

"Just . . . one last time?" he begged, reaching instantly for Kakuzu's hands and grappling with his fingers. The bag tumbled into his grasp before either of them could catch it, and with well practised ease the plastic was ripped open and the powder was at his fingertips. Chilling sounds of snorting reached my ears and I saw him miserably hunched over, taking the stuff into his nose.

"Ahhh" he sighed in evident pleasure, and I caught his body as he slumped backwards, dazed and helpless again. In his brains current state of foggyness he couldn't possibly have moved himself¸ so with a little help from the others I carried him out into the evening light.

It was a beautiful sunset. I only wish he could have seen it, one last time.

The place glared a blinding white colour, smelling as hauntingly sterile as that hospital all those months ago, and looking chillingly like some sort of big white high ceilinged heaven. I'd never been to an airport before, and the view was startling.

The wheels on Hidan's chair moved silently, without a rut or bump to shake his body. He lounged, sitting low and crookedly, with an equally wonky grin on his face. We all knew why, and Kakuzu was looking increasingly more worried with every step we took. Who had checked his pockets before we left the van? Not me. With its plates removed and its doors firmly locked, the van stood empty in a darkened parking lot. Probably guiltily loaded with that small bag of Hidan's.

People pushed and shoved around us, suitcase wheels rumbled by, accompanied by swinging purses and baggage trolleys. Somewhere people were having a lovers tiff, and at the other side of us a group were laughing loudly. The place was a bustle of life and humanity, but it felt as if we were in a bubble – cut off from the rest of them. We had no luggage to drag and no bags to check in. We were like ghosts, not belonging to the scene around us . . .

I was shaken from my thoughts as we joined a fast moving queue, not far from the giant swing doors we entered through. A huge white and orange sign towered above us as we squeaked along the polished tiles, moving closer to the gilded desk. An annoyed grunt came from below, and I felt a pang of sympathy – Hidan could not see over the counter.

He wasn't missing out on much. A middle aged woman, with orange lipstick smeared on her lips and teeth, sneered over the desk at us as if daring us to ask her for a ticket. Her black and orange uniform seemed to clash with her company's logo rather than blend with it, and her manly features succeeded in making her look even more out of place than us.

"W- What is the next flight to leave?" Zetsu stammered politely, failing to meet her eyes

A few minutes passed as she idly tapped at a computer,

"Aint no more going tonight is there?" she leered, "past ten is'nit. Though I can book you into an 'otel." He gum almost fell out of her mouth at that point, and Zetsu had to try his best not to look disgusted, as Sasori had often encouraged him to do.

"I got an early plane going out, tomorrow mornin' at 4am" she spat, fingers hurtling over the keyboard,

"That'll do" Zetsu replied quickly, forgetting his acquired accent for a brief period, "I need seven tickets, and a hotel for tonight, as fast as you can please"

He fumbled for their passports, clumsily balancing them on the plastic top of the desk, and feeling the woman's eyes constantly on him. She flipped casually through them, but upon reaching my photo, she looked up.

"Ere' chubby" she drawled, "we got policies . . ." pointing at her own stomach and then at mine, "if your waist touches both armrests of that there seat when you sits down, we gotta charge you extra." Her tone was blunt, patronising even, and colour rose to my cheeks as I stared her down incredulously. My mind raced for something intelligent to say, but all was blank. I was angry, tired and hungry and this woman had all but put the last nail in the coffin of my self control. With one more livid glare I turned on my heel and left, pushing Hidan ahead of me and dragging Pein behind.

The first parade of shops lay ahead, with more behind them, and more behind them. I felt in my pockets feeling the crisp comforting notes that I'd ached to spend earlier. Beside me I felt Pein do the same. I looked at him, meeting his strange eyes for the first time in days, and finding in them the same itch that I'd been feeling.

We piled into the first shop we came across, some nameless supermarket, its windows flooded with special offers that no one was ever interested in. Trolleys and baskets passed me by, as the tiles slipped under my shoes. Soon my hands were searching the shelves, clutching pasties and a bag of doughnuts, a bar of chocolate and a king-size milkshake. That would do for now. Across the other side of the shop I could see Pein's head bobbing. I knew what he was up to.

Tension and half hearted excitement built inside me, the plastic bag weighed heavily in my right hand, and the drink felt cold in my other. Leaving the shop, I concentrated on burying the feelings of guilt and I followed Pein to a quiet secluded area of the airport – both sharing equally contented grins. The great glass windows by which we sat gave views across the runways, tarmac and the planes taking to the sky like birds, but I was only interested in the cartons lying on my lap. Within seconds of arriving, the milkshake was pouring down my throat, and delicious thick jam was coating my teeth and tongue. Bliss filled me completely and a sigh escaped my sugary lips.

To my side, on the bony airport chair, Pein was surreptitiously emptying a bottle of whisky into an innocent mac donalds cardboard cup. I watched, chewing constantly, as he replaced the lid and took a long drink from the straw. I didn't know it was possible to drink the stuff so quickly, or so easily. He surprised and sickened me at the same moment. But I imagine he held similar feelings about me. I looked again, and his lips were still firmly clamped over the plastic cup, his eyes were closed. There was no conversation between us, and I reflected back to that other night at the skatepark. The same scenario was occurring between us again. Time passed slowly, watching the clouds wander by outside the floor-to-ceiling windows and observing the light fading out of the day. My phone rang on and off as Pein slipped further and further into a drunken stupor and the seats around me filled up with empty wrappers. I didn't realize the big empty space that had opened up next to me, hadn't realized it from the beginning. My lazy mind drifted around the subject as my hands scurried in and out of the doughnut bag, supplying my mouth with a constant stream of sweetness . . .

"_The fucking bastards!" _he hissed, sitting alone outside the supermarket where he'd been left. More than twenty minutes had passed, and Deidara had not returned to him. He gritted his teeth, trying to summon the strength to wheel himself away, but his arms felt like spaghetti. His head was spinning around in the stratosphere, disconnected and clouded with drugs. He found moving difficult at the best of times, but right now it was next to impossible. At least the urges had disappeared, he felt nothing and hadn't done for nearly two hours now. His meds couldn't mix with the drugs if he just stopped taking them right? Why hadn't he thought of this before? Silently he congratulated himself on his ingenious plan, the box of prescription medicine lay discarded in the van now, far beyond anyone's reach. He _could_ break free of the embarrassing sickness, it _was _possible.

He grunted with effort again with his hands clasped round the metal of the wheels. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move himself. His arms were beginning to ache from the strain, but at least his head was beginning to clear. Or was it.

A dreadful haze had come over his vision, everything seemed a little fuzzy and random dark patches were springing up everywhere. He shook his head to clear the darkness that was creeping in at the edges of his sight, but his head only spun more. A horrible numb feeling was spreading across his hands as well, and as he concentrated on it, the same cold feeling was crawling over his chest. He looked down, with relief exploding inside of him when he saw his dignity still remained. Activity under his jeans was still at a minimum.

But still the onslaught of cold would not go away. Stabs of pain wound their way up from his legs, worse than ever before, enough to make him cry out in agony and trepidation. A massage from his small hands did little to help, and when he looked at them he froze in renewed fear. His fingers were blue.

"What . . .?" he grunted, trying to flex the digits but with no luck. His sight was getting worse, the darkness was flickering over everything now, and even sound was dulling down into a low roar. He fumbled for his throat, trying to feel a pulse at his neck. He pressed hard into the flesh, desperate for a faint flutter of a beat, but could only find a weak erratic rhythm.

"_Help!"_ he gasped, realizing his dreadful mistake but his voice came out as a whisper. There seemed to suddenly be no light to the world, no sound in the airport, and nothing . . . nothing to hold onto but the pain in his chest. It was killing him, burning through him in the dark.

He awoke on the cold marble floor, surrounded by a flock of people. A stranger was pumping away at his aching chest, and he felt the blood flowing freely into his hands again. Before he could glimpse anyone in the crowd, the man had pinched his nose and was blowing air into his lungs. From the wetness in his lips Hidan guessed he'd done it a few times already. Again, he was glad for the lack of medication. He'd have _completely lost it_ by now if he'd had that medicine in his system.

"Aachh!" he coughed, blinking blearily and trying to move.

"Woa relax!" a calm voice soothed him, "you've just had a mild heart failure, stay still"

"HIDAN!" A voice shouted from the throng of people craning their necks for a better look, and I waddled out towards him. Pein staggered behind me, hardly capable of walking in a straight line, let alone taking care of a seriously sick friend.

The plain-clothes doctor seemed to have the same idea.

"Do you want to follow me to the hospit-" he began, but I silenced him with a look, already hoisting Hidan back into his chair. There were no heated gasps this time, no clenched teeth or restrained urges. Just the sick silence. It unnerved me. Slowly we pushed him away, and towards the hotel in which we'd be spending the night.

"Wait, stop" he murmured lightly, halting us behind a screen advertising fake tan. He shifted with difficulty and produced the bag from his pocket

"I thought you left that in the-" I began

"Shut up" he cut me off cruelly, pinching some powder from the bag and sniffing it up his nose in one fluid motion. When the bag was safely hidden again, I carried on, not saying a word. It wasn't worth the trouble, his mind was made up and at the end of the day it was his life on the line. The silent wheels of the chair skimmed along the ground, not even filling the awkward gap in the conversation. Plastic advert boards and digital screens passed us by, until the humdrum clutter of airport gave way to plush fountains and false rubber plants,

The hotel plaza opened up ahead. I wondered what kind of reception we'd receive once inside. . .

_Still haven't got around to the point have I?_

_Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, especially slack-jawed cheese hugger who gave me the will to carry on. Next chapter to swiftly follow . . ._


	9. Golden Departure

Ratio 9

The foyer, to my eyes, was boring and dull. To any other art lover it would have been chic, modern and meaningful. The plain walls were completely white, as were the plush drapes. A few black carved pillars shot spectacularly up to the high ceiling, each with intricate lettering decorating the summits. A seating area was laid out straight ahead, filled with plush couches and spindly tables, plus a tiny vase containing a single crimson rose. If this wasn't high class I_ didn't know what was._

I made my way to the nearest sofa piled high with cushions, my back was aching and my eyes were drooping with tiredness. The events back in the van had really taken their toll on me. Light reflected in the polished tiles underfoot, and as I looked down I saw my own hulking image staring back at me, all wobbling hips and tent size clothing. I squinted closer trying to get a glimpse of my own piggy eyes in the gleaming marble, but my jelly belly swung in the way. My thighs strained against my jeans, and shamefaced I looked away.

I heaved myself nearer to the square of thick carpet and luxury seats and I noticed the others were already here. I'd hoped they hadn't waited for us; I didn't want them to see the state we were all in. Pein looked half dead, the smell of strong liquor hung around him like a cloud and his eyes were bloodshot. And me with crumbs still on my shirt, and sugar still on my fingers. And deceitful Hidan, slouching there like he owned the place while I pushed him about like a personal servant.

He was about to get his comeuppance.

"Sirs, are you ready to go to your suite?" a polite young man in smart clothes addressed us, looking at each of the group in turn, before spotting Konan and blushing deeply.

"yeah why not, lets have the key" Pein drawled, staggering up to the man and swiping the golden chain from his fingertips

"t-the lifts are out" he called to the drunken man's retreating back, before turning back to me and Hidan looking sympathetic and overly kind. "Are you ok with the stairs?"

"No" Hidan growled, clenching his fists

"Can you stand?" he questioned

"No" Hidan repeated, with shame stabbing him in the chest.

"It's ok" I stepped in, "do you have a service elevator we could use?"

The man nodded, and led us out of the beautiful interior with the floor to ceiling windows and the patchworks of light on the floor. We went through door after door, and ended up in the noisy concrete back corridors. Maids and chefs hurried past us, and pipes zig zagged across the roof. Steam came from doorways we passed, and the smell of laundry was everywhere. The grimy black lift stood at the end of the hall looking foreboding. It was old, with a pull-across metal mesh to act as a door. Hesitantly I pushed Hidan inside, and followed after, then the doorman pulled the door closed with a crash. The old machine ground into life, the utter opposite of the reception area we'd come from. Fumes and dust clogged the air and I heard Hidan choke, my hand dropped to his shoulder to comfort him and eventually we arrived. We only had to travel up one floor, and it took all that hassle.

Again, stepping out of the back corridors and into a millionaires den after walking past garbage chutes, maid's quarters and boiler rooms came as shock to the system. Our door lay ahead, number 153 laid out in gold letters. It felt good to pretend I belonged here.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time we arrived, everyone else was sitting around on the beds and chairs. Within 5 minutes I'd decided I hated this room too. Everything inside was sparklingly clean and pale in colour, except a black speaker and my eye was drawn to it.

No music came from it, however, as none of us had any cds to play. We had no possessions whatsoever, and the fact was made clearer by the emptiness of the minimalist room. The speaker stood silently, as did the rest of us – stranded in speechlessness.

Flip . . . Flip . . .Flip

The repeated sound of Kakuzu toying with his credit card began to grate on my nerves. He was probably still strangling over the cost of our airline tickets. Turns out they did apply those extra charges to me after all. Costing him an extra £500. I felt guilty somewhere underneath the 10 doughnuts I'd eaten by myself. They felt like rocks in my stomach, sitting there stodgy yet satisfying.

The bag lay crumpled and sticky on the dresser, sugar coating the paper sides, but I was done with it now. My attention was diverted elsewhere.

"Zetsu! Stop! I can do it myself!" Hidan's indignant tones cut through the air like a blade. His chair was pushed flush against the bed coverings, and Zetsu was helping him onto the mattress. He was flailing his arms, trying to gain back some independence.

"Fine. Take care of yourself" Zetsu snapped back, eyes narrowed with undisguised hate. He took a step back, lounging easily on the plush mattress behind and watching with interest at Hidan's efforts

"Urgh!" he panted, trying to lift himself up by the strength of his own two arms. His legs throbbed with faint pain, but moving them was impossible. He glanced sideways, judging the distance, then pushed forwards in a spurt of defiance

I closed my eyes.

He missed, by quite a bit, and fell pitifully to the floor with a cry. His chair skidded out over the marble tiles and for a moment no one even rose to help him. He laid crumpled, a gasping bundle of skin and bones. Maybe a few private tears were shed. I'll never know.

Surprisingly, Zetsu was the first on his feet, making his way across the room to help the wretched creature Hidan had become. Gripping him under his arms, he hoisted his friend onto the bed where he collapsed with a groan.

"Don't . . ." he mumbled when Zetsu tried to remove his jacket, but the heavy fabric was soon off his shoulders. The loose pockets quickly gave up their secret and numerous syringes fell tumbling onto the bedclothes, much to his shame and embarrassment. He sat, startled for a moment at the amount of sharp points and evil glinting needles that were surrounding him. His expression was one of sadness and regret,

"I never wanted it to be like this . . ." he muttered quietly, looking down at his lap rather that into the eyes of the others.

"How do you mean?" I questioned, from the adjoined bathroom where I was washing the sweat from my brow. I really was in very bad shape, not prepared for shoving Hidan halfway round an airport.

"I never wanted to be like-" he gestured vaguely at the empty needles scattered on the bed and floor in a motion that no one could possibly see. "Like this, being dependant on these drugs to keep me sane"

He felt their stares boring into him, cutting deep into his soul. He knew and they knew that he could barely exist without his fix. It was wearing them down, and their patience was on its last legs. Heroin addicts wore everybody out in the end, with their constant lying and crying, and Hidan was no exception. He curled up like a frightened animal, barely holding in a whimper of fear. He had to get away from those eyes, so turning on his side he tried to face away from them all. But his crippled legs would not allow it.

"Ahh!" he cried as another sweeping pain shot from his ankles to his hips and his fists clenched around the pillows. A quiet sob escaped his lips before he could hold it back, and a second later he felt a weight on the bed beside him,

"It's going to be all right, stupid" Kakuzu murmured into his ear, pushing the hair back from his forehead with an unusually cold hand. "You're gonna be okay. Here," he handed him a box, just like the one he thought he'd left behind. The complicated writing and professional looking script was just the same as the box of meds now abandoned in the van.

"I can't . . ." Hidan muttered back so quietly only I heard him. He realized he hadn't taken them for more than a day, and must look as terrible as he felt. His heart kept up a slow and laboured rhythm, beating so irregularly even his arms were beginning to ache and his head felt light and dizzy. But still he refused, still desperate to cling to his dignity.

"You look dreadful" Kakuzu admitted, "take a few, it won't hurt. It's been what, 6 hours since . . ."

"Huh" Hidan smirked half heartedly, trying not to cry. He'd be lucky if had been 6 minutes since his last fix. He grimaced, slinging back a few pills to dull the pain in his chest, and hopefully prevent another attack like earlier. We all knew what would happen, but it was still better than him dying, right?

As he delved deeper into his own morbid thoughts with a faraway look in his eyes, I waddled across the room towards the bed. There were only three beds in the room, so we all had to double up. Kisame and Konan had the bed near the window and the giant plush rug, and no one wanted to share with them being as they were lovers and valued their privacy. The other bed near the door had already been taken by Pein and Kakuzu, the reason being that someone sensible needed to watch him in the night in case he was sick, or tried to sneak off to the bar at 2am. That left me and Hidan on the king-size bed, unfortunately sharing with Zetsu of all people.

The poor bed groaned and sagged as I dumped my weight onto it, and Hidan rolled helplessly towards me. My back was aching worse than I'd ever known it and I guess I only had myself to blame for that. The heavy weight of my body was more than my back and spine could handle, and every few days Id get killer back aches and tiredness. I had to lay down, and take the pressure off my bones. I waited until everyone else was in bed, and until every light was turned off before I took off my belt and shirt. I didn't want anyone to see, I didn't want anyone to _have_ to see. My pale fleshy form appeared as the giant shirt was thrown to the floor, the fabric all faded and stretched. My belly wobbled along with my hips and sagged over the waistband of my jeans as I sat, grateful for the darkness. The bed dipped again as I laid down, and I heard Zetsu mutter something unkind from the other side of the mattress. He'd never understand, the pompous fool, and I didn't even want him to. Between him and me, there was no common ground. He'd left us for a life of education and success, and now had opinions to match. He was no longer the Zetsu I used to know.

Hidan was curled up in the remaining space on the bed, but I could hardly see if his eyes were open or closed. Everything in the room was suddenly pitch black, and the only sound was that of the traffic outside the windows. Not even a glimmer of streetlamps or neon restaurant signs got through the thick curtains.

I listened intently, but could only hear my own breathing.

Beside me under the covers, Hidan's panting was speeding up rapidly. His chest was aching, it felt like his heart and lungs were caught in a vice. Once the tablets were sliding down his throat he knew in his heart what was to come. He could feel _it_ building, slower than before but stronger. _So much stronger._ Like a tidal wave rushing in from the sea, he could tell already how awful the outcome would be. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, refusing to give in to the feelings pulsing through him. His body began to grow hot and his hands started shaking, great gulps of air rushed down his throat but did little to calm him. Low down, a glorious tingling spread across his skin before permeating deeper and he rolled over onto his tummy, groaning, with his face buried in the pillows. A sudden urge to take one and clamp it over his groin overtook his wits, but he didn't have the strength. The only thing his weak body could manage was bucking hard into the mattress. It felt _heavenly,_ but the need and desperation never ceased to grow and by the time he'd realized it, he was reaching for me. His cold little hands crashed into my side, grabbing fistfuls of flesh as his muscles contracted and he curled over again.

"Dei – It's c-coming fast" he moaned fearfully, digging his nails deeper into the rolls of fat in his hands, but for once I pushed him away. I was angry over the bleeding marks stinging all over my spare tyres, but I was even angrier about his deception over the drugs. If he'd left them in the van, he'd be fine now. Such were my naive thoughts.

Shaking, he rolled over, moaning slightly at the pain. Horrible urges overtook his mind, desires that were not his own but products of the drugs swirling in his brain. I heard him try to shuffle further away, but the crippling sickness was descending on him too quickly. His moans grew louder and more desperate, he was tearing and pulling at his jeans, trying to get them open. It was a pitiful sight, his nails were breaking and ripping off, tears slid down his face and his legs twitched awkwardly. The zip eventually split open at his furious fingers, and bits of thread and ripped denim scattered the sheets,

"uhhh . . ." an audible sigh of relief swept round the room when finally both his hands delved inside the crotch of his jeans. He was still for what seemed like forever, but slowly he began to move. I felt his actions rather than saw them, noticed the shaking of the bed as his hand pumped back and forth, achieving the relief he craved. I felt the rumble of his low moans vibrating through the bed springs and I felt his heat pulsing to my side.

Soon though his hunger had grown into a fit of need, which he could not satisfy alone

"Not enough . . . n-not enough!" he panted, tossing and turning, trying to find a release. He reached out in his delirium, his hand knocking into Zetsu and in his confusion he thought he was me.

"G- gah!" he grunted, pushing and thrusting into the warmth of the man beside him. Spasms of pleasure raced through him and he clung on tightly with both hands

Beside him, Zetsu – in his thin cotton pants – could feel everything

"H-hidan!?" he stammered, trying to peer over his shoulder. The thrusts were weak and powerless, but he could feel an awful hardness pressing tightly against him, hot and thick. Poor Hidan was desperate.

"Z-Zet . . . I'm sorry" he grunted as he crushed his groin against the man again and again. The heat was incredible, the friction was burning him up but it felt so good he couldn't stop.

"I'm s- . . . I'm so s- . . . _I'm so sorry"_ he cried helplessly, heaving himself over his friend to fully mount him.

"Aaagghh!" he growled, pushing and thrusting down right into Zetsu's softness. His length pulsed painfully, and he ached just to ram it right up inside his student friend. His body was shaking in a fit of thirst and madness, and sweat was pouring from his brow. His hips bucked constantly and beneath him, Zetsu was writhing in distress.

"He's lost it!" he screamed, trying to escape from Hidan's insane clutches, but the albino held on tightly, not done with his pounding yet. His stomach was on Zetsu's back and his legs lay askew and forgotten, his constant thrusts pressed him tightly against Zetsu's behind. And with every one came a fresh moan.

I knew I had to do something.

The bed creaked and snapped as I moved across the mattress towards the middle, with my arms outstretched. In one swift grab I took Hidan around the waist and pulled him away. He was light as a feather, and trembling slightly with sick desire. His eyes were wide and frustrated and his skin was clammy.

"Uurrgh!" he groaned as the movement sent fresh urges blistering through his groin,

"Its okay" I whispered to him, sitting him delicately in my lap and slipping my hand into my own jeans.

His small fists clenched around my hair, and his teeth were bared. Another muscle contraction had him hunched over in my lap, growling for relief. His moans were rapidly growing louder, creeping ever closer to screams, his legs were twitching and his breathing was ragged.

I gently gripped his jaw, turning his trembling face up to meet the light. Hesitantly I stared into his eyes, almost afraid of what I might find there. The pupils were small and round, and his lashes and cheeks were shining with the moisture of fresh tears. A myriad of emotions shone there, of which fear was the strongest, burning bright and frightening.

In mercy I pushed his wretched body off me, sinking him deep into the soft mattress while I slipped between his fragile legs.

"_Please . . ."_ He whispered as I drew closer and parted his damaged thighs

He was throbbing, red hot and hard. Marks pitted his soft skin where his nails had dug in and I ached to alleviate his pain. With a deep breath and a final stare into his bottomless eyes, I brutally forced into him.

"HAAAAHHH!" he screamed, eyes blazing open and blood running from the scratches he'd gouged in my belly. I held still for a second more, as his wails faded into whines of pain and satisfaction and the crimson liquid dropped steadily onto the white sheets.

Everyone was awake and listening as I finally began to move, the bed creaked and complained underneath me in time to my rocking. Hidan's gasping and screaming never ceased, and it seemed his lust was never ending. Ruthlessly I pounded him, wishing only to ease the hunger burning inside him and sooth his cravings at least for one night.

His skin seared against mine but the scabs and scars on his legs shone up redder and angrier the hotter we got. He bucked hard into me, furious for more and aching for all I could give.

I could sense the others in the room; feel the atmosphere so uncomfortable and thick you could cut it with a knife. They were all listening, hearing my breathing speed up as I drew closer to the edge, and accepting Hidan's urgent growls. This was all so normal, so routine for them. Their friend's sickness and disability was no more an issue to them than my weight or Pein's habit.

Two weak hands suddenly clamped around my arms, clinging on as tight as they could. From the look in his bloodshot eyes I could tell Hidan was close, so close.

"Ahhhh!! . . . Mhm!!" he gasped with every muscle clenched tightly, the shakes began, slowly at first then increasing in rhythm until I thought he surely would burst.

"Let it out" I encouraged, rubbing his back vigorously

With a final heave he released, grunting in effort and tried to lay back, but I caught him and pulled him back into my lap,

"All of it. Let it all out" I whispered, holding his hands as he struggled to breathe. He clenched his fists as the sickness took him and he came a second time. His growls faded into sweet moans of relief and he collapsed back into the piles of soft linen. I caught him before the feather light pillows could stroke his pale back, and I lifted him delicately into my arms.

"T-thank you" he choked, grabbing hold of himself as the last of his seed trickled away. He leaned back as I held him, trying to get his breath back and regain a little of his lost dignity.

"It's okay . . . It's okay" I murmured, in the hallowed loving tones a mother uses to whisper to favourite child. I rocked him, as if he was nothing but a baby, innocent and safe.

I gazed tiredly into his face for the hundredth time, each time this happened I prayed it would be the last, but an end never came. There was no hope for a cure for his illness. The only solution being to send him away to rehab, but he was already too sick for that.

I looked up apon hearing his voice and noticed that there was no colour in his face at all, I dismissed his thanks as the first of the worries began to grow. His expression was pained, his face was pale, and looking down at his hands I was shocked to see they were tinged with blue.

"Hidan –I-" I turned my face half away, trying to hide my concerned expression. It wouldn't do to scare him, not now, not after an attack like that. I opened my mouth to speak my mounting fears, but before I could get the words out, a thin trickle of red caught my eye. Blood was leaking from his nose, and tumbling down his cheek and over his lips.

"What's this?" I quavered, wiping it away, but as I pulled my hand away, the downpour increased.

"Deidara!" he cried out, still wheezing for breath. "get a towel or something!"

I struggled, heaving my lumpy 18 stone body to the edge of the bed, and trying not to topple over as my giant belly rolled under my shirt. I waddled into the bathroom without bothering with lights and gabbed a towel. The soft fluffy fabric was soon stained with blood, standing out a sharp crimson even in the dark. The terrible amount worried me, and Hidan was looking faint and tired. Great bags hung under his eyes and he looked exhausted. His clammy, almost grey skin could be due to both his illness or his addiction. I wasn't a betting man, but even I'd have put money on the latter.

The towel was damp and grisly by the time the nosebleed had finished ,and the clock showed the time was almost 3am. Quietly I got up to rinse the thing, careful not to wake anyone lucky enough to have gone back to sleep. The painfully hot water gushed over my hands and down the drain, washing the blood away and leaving only pristine white cloth in its place. I wished a bit of hot water could do the same with my life, and said as much.

"How do you mean?" Hidan called from the en suite bedroom where he was lounging and taking any pressure off his weak legs.

"You wouldn't understand" I muttered kindly, using the warm towel to clean the sweat and tears from his young face  
He smirked and closed his eyes, and the chronic tiredness made him look somehow older than his mere 18 years. "Yeah." He muttered absently, having forgotten whatever it was I'd said, and thinking only of his next fix. Where the money was coming from and who would score for him. His mind, like that of all junkies, was constantly on the future.

With a smile and a look back at his half-sleeping form, I carried the dirty sheets back into the bathroom and dumped them there. I was too lazy to clean them myself, and ached for my bed and a cure for my back pains. I slid in next to Hidan, who curled around me instantly. A few blissfully quiet cool moments passed, and then he began to wake once more.

I felt him stir, uncomfortably apon waking up. He was wriggling, and I was careful not to knock into him as he moved – the veins in his arm had collapsed after all the injecting, and the bruising was vicious. Nasty blue and black blotches covered his skin from just above his wrist all the way up past his elbow, finally fading a few inches below his shoulder. Even his feet showed scars from his habit, tiny pinpricks of dark red littered the spaces between his toes where he'd begun injecting years ago to be sure no one noticed. We all had now.

Next to me in the dark, he was waking up fast. His hands rose from his lap and rested over his heart, clutching at the area in obvious pain. I murmured for him to go back to sleep, not realising the urgency in his actions. Agony spiralled outwards from his chest, and it felt like his heart was being stabbed all over again. I sat up, concerned as I heard him fighting for breath, and choking my name. I saw his hands, massaging the growing pains in his heart, saw his lips losing their red colour and his face even paler than normal.

"Hidan!" I cried, thinking the worst. I held him up as he shook with fear, his body and skin felt cold to my touch – a shocking contrast to earlier that same night. His mouth was opening and closing but no sound or air was passing through, the dizziness increased, and he slumped forwards weakly. Distantly he heard me shouting for help, and felt the bed dip to his left and right as people clambered closer to him,

"_Am I dying . . .?"_ he whispered, and it seemed an eternity before a reply came floating to him as if from the other side of a great sea,

"Hold on, Hidan we're calling for help"

"Just hold my hand . . ." He grimaced as the last of the light faded out of his eyes and he surrendered to blindness

He was floating now, he knew this feeling, remembered it from countless days spent unconscious on the sofa after a good fix. The heaviness of his limbs was the same as well, his legs were weighted down as if with rocks and his arms had turned into lead. The pain was all wrong though. It was seeping through his insides, stinging and burning and _hurting. _No breath passed in or out of his lungs, and it occurred to him that he couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore. Inside his head, all was quiet, and that was comforting, the same sensation as an armful of the good stuff would give. The thumping that vibrated through his ribs was someone hammering on his chest, not his heart pumping. He wished they'd just get off him, and let him be with Deidara some more. He felt fine, if a little odd. He felt numb . . . he felt . . .

A single light breath trickled over his bottom lip, and his eyelids fluttered for the last time. His entire body relaxed, and a kind of strange relief flooded him through. Faintly he smiled. . .

It felt like he was leaving the sweaty mattress, slipping free of his addiction once and for all. Looking back, the expression of pain on Kakuzu's face was more than he could bear. He tried to whisper for him not to be afraid for even he himself was feeling only a peaceful calm. He saw their faces, shining and glowing with tears. His own silent crying was as loud as thunder in his ears, and, spiralling higher into the golden light of a seamless sunset, he mirrored the regret in their eyes. But even if far below they couldn't hear his voice as he faded further into the distance, he would be with them, beside them.

Always.


	10. Memories

Ratio 10 part A

The six men sat in the room, every eye between those four walls having been fixed on the seventh of their group for some time now. Their thoughts were almost tangible; such was the power behind each one. Some expressions were perfectly held, concentrated and carefully portrayed. But others were simply pictures of raw emotion barely controlled.

The clock on the wall ticked in the gloom, the sound of it almost being lost in the oppressive silence of this late hour. Or was it merely early? No one knew anymore, all that mattered was the darkness. It was dark and therefore there was time to ponder, and muse and grieve for at least a few more precious hours before the sun rose up and the world surfaced. Plus the darkness concealed the . . . gore . . . A corpse on the bed, blood on the sheets, the body slowly cooling and the skin slowly fading from pink to . . . white.

The sounds of people rustling and snoring in their sleep floated through the walls and up through the floors. Clattering and banging of cooks already preparing breakfast accompanied the few faint sounds of sleep, and yet none of this mundane noise managed to penetrate the sober atmosphere.

Around the room, their private thoughts marched on . . .

1 (Kakauzu)

He collapsed, sobbing. His tears fell moist onto the mattress, where minutes before his friend's living body had heaved its last breath. Through the shining curtain of grief he looked at Hidan again, so pale, so peaceful. He looked at harmony with the world, the whole world, not just the bits of it that concerned him and his habit. Kakuzu sighed, letting the trickle of air calm him and ease his aching throat. Shame suddenly crept up on him, shame for letting everyone see him break down. And ultimately, shame for not being there for Hidan from the start.

Oh he thought back, Kakauzu could remember the start . . .

It was early October, and a chill was just creeping into the air. It showed itself in the mist in the mornings, making its presence known by pressing itself up against the windows and swirling round them both on the way to college. Their breaths came out as little white puffs, adding to the shroud that already surrounded them. He remembered the walk, because every day it took longer, and every day it was harder. Kakuzu strolled effortlessly along, carrying Hidan's bag and his own as the younger man laboured by on crutches. Kakuzu's feet met the pavement with confident thuds, while Hidan's scraped along, tripping and often stumbling. He could see the pain and effort etched on the other man's face, but every morning and evening he would make the journey, just to prove he still could.

The college days were busy as ever. The never ending march of homework and vocabulary tests in German carried on regardless of the season. Paper flurried, printers beeped, pens scratched at books and life went on.

It was on one such day they were sitting hunched in the lovely plastic school chairs, on the second floor of the block, listening to the teacher drone on and on. Kakuzu's mind was full of worry; concern for assessments, and also a nagging doubt about Hidan. He hadn't been himself in the last few days, and a feeling in his gut told him he was to blame. He could have easily turned the blame over to Hidan's accident, which had happened around 4 months previously. But he knew the real cause of the other man's anxious eyes and fevered skin was because of the week before. Him and the fool Kisame had started trying drugs. It had been a laugh, they'd said, a little change of pace to shake him out of the depression that had settled like a blanket of dust.

Kakuzu glanced across at him, to find him distractedly fiddling with a well-chewed pen and staring out of the window. The sky was turning a beautiful pink outside the glass, pink to match his eyes, and in the city below lights were beginning to twinkle on.

He leaned closer, to get a better view of whatever it was that had captured Hidan's attention. And then heard him. Laboured breaths heaved in and out of his chest, sending alarm bursting through Kakuzu's own heart. Everything had been so calm before, so peaceful. What was wrong with him?

"Hidan are you alr-" he began, and when the pale man turned around he saw him blush deeply. The rush of blood to his cheeks was a complete contrast to the usual pale pink. He never said a word and his silence was shocking. The relaxed atmosphere was suddenly broken when he shot to his feet, pain briefly flaring across his face, pushed his chair back and hobbled towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going, young man!" The teacher burst out, but by then his hand was already on the door handle, the door was swinging open, and he was gone. Both crutches left leaning up against the desk. Kakuzu sat, stunned, wondering whether Hidan's sudden change in personality was down to him, and what he'd taken from his pencil case the second before he left.

Back outside, Hidan had nearly reached the bathroom. Clumsy footsteps and a herculean effort had got him halfway down the corridor. His hand slipped on the wall and he stumbled to his knees again, tearing the holes in his trousers even wider. A quiet cry of pain rushed past his lips, and his hands reached out in front, pulling and forcing himself along.

The door swung wide, into the dripping college bathroom. Slowly, he pushed himself up against a cubicle door, and slid inside, using the walls to clamber to his feet again. His legs shook and pain shot up and down them several times. With a deep breath, he contemplated what he was about to do, and what had lead him to this.

The highlighter pen felt light in his hands, the neon yellow colour almost stinging his aching eyes. If he undid the lid he imagined he'd smell that odd, chemical aroma, but there'd be no need for that. In fact he did the opposite and rammed the lid down hard, making sure it was staying on. Then he lowered it, slowly sucking in a deep breath to calm himself. The neon pen travelled past his t shirt, past his waistband, slowly trailing across his skin as he tensed and relaxed.

A feeling was creeping through him, warm and electric. He'd never felt this way before, not even at the prom when Konan accidently kissed him in year 11. But he didn't like it. It was too strong, it was sweeping him over, making him act strangely and sapping his energy.

"_Ah!_" he gasped. The cold tip of the highlighter pen had continued its journey and was now _right there, _right where he needed it. Poking and probing and stroking him gently. His eyes were shut tight for the simple reason he was too ashamed to look upon what he was doing to himself. One hand groped softly between his legs while the other slowly pushed the object further inside. It was a curious gesture, a first attempt at something more and faintly he felt an exited twinge like a light being turned on in a room for the first time. Beneath the unwanted throbbing, the false lust and panicked grunting, he was amazed at himself, amazed and disgusted.

Plastic screeched when his fist clenched tighter around the pen and he fell against the door. He wobbled, losing his balance on his weak legs and sank slowly back to his knees. A faint ache spread up though his thighs and the floor felt cold through his ripped jeans but he barely noticed. Pleasure was exploding inside him while the knowing hunger was gradually erased.

The room seemed to tip and spin and he never heard the door creak open, it was all lost to his grunts and quiet moans. Kakuzu stood, stunned by the sounds and the echoes of cries mixing with the steady drip . . . drip of bathroom taps. His friends' feet were visible under the door of the nearest cubicle and it chilled him to see they were shaking. The noise grew in volume and he turned his back, lest he see a reflection of Hidan in the puddles on the floor. Even cursed men deserved dignity.

2 (Konan)

It felt as if a great blade had been forced through my ribs. My friend lay dying in my arms yet his dried blood still coated my sleeves. A cold numbness began to worm its way up through my body, triggering tears as it reached my eyes. I looked down on Hidan's body as the warmth seemed to fade out of him, and the bile rose in my throat. This was all some sort of bad dream, in a minute I'd wake to find him curled in the next room, in his strange special bed. The electric humming would faintly reach my ears and we'd both drift in and out of sleep. It was the twilight hour just between waking and sleeping that I liked the best. The bit where you know morning is just around the corner, but there are still another few hours to savour. But it looked like the promise of another morning had finally been stolen from Hidan.

But while I swept my eyes once more over his small crippled body, a part of me was glad for him. I'd keep that thought secret for the rest of my life, but somewhere deep inside I was glad he'd finally escaped his pain.

I sat for a long moment, still as a statue and silent with the rest of them. I knew I should keep focussed and support my friends, but I found myself receding back into my own memory. I watched flashes of our past soar across my eyes, each as brilliant and terrible as the last. One in particular stuck in the forefront of my mind, one that I couldn't help but dwell on as one by one the others dragged themselves from the room. I guess they couldn't bear being in each other's presence any longer. I could understand. They needed time to grieve, and come to terms with what had happened here tonight.

But in all seriousness none of us had seen it coming. It seemed stupid now. Yet as the room emptied and the lights went out I sat alone, still keeping vigil beside the dead man's bed as I'd always done. I sat, silent, and remembered.

I remembered the decorations going up, the red and the gold fluttering in the streets. I recalled the sound our boots made as we crunched through the snow, and the sound Hidan made as he fell to his knees in it once more. It was early winter, the chill of autumn having turned into a stubborn freeze. College was on its last legs and everyone was winding down for Christmas even though the holidays were many weeks away. No one could be bothered any more. Least of all Hidan.

The gaps between the days he attended college grew longer and longer. I remember waiting for him every morning on the corner while the traffic roared past and sprayed me with sleet and dust. He hardly ever showed, and on the days he did, it was with great bags under his eyes and a heavy tiredness about him.

I blamed his illness the same as everyone else.

It was on one such bleak and grey morning, near on five months later, that I turned up once again outside his door. The house looked run-down and filthy compared to the one I shared with Kisame mere streets away. I hated the atmosphere in that part of town, hated the look of the buildings and the smell of the cheap takeaways. Odd that we should all, once again, wind up in that house again.

The exhaust from my car piled up in the air behind me as I sat behind the wheel and waited. The grey fumes trailed up into the grey sky and became invisible. I watched them climb higher, losing myself in another daydream. Anything was better than focusing on today - it was time for another hospital run.

We travelled the 60 miles every couple of months when Hidan had another check up at the hospital. I took the longer route along the motorways, because I knew the smoother roads would mean less pain for him. The car jolted and bumped badly on the country roads and every shock shuddered up through his legs and made him wince and moan. I was the only one with a car, so I drove, sometimes for hours, to get him down there where they'd go through the whole routine. The questions seemed endless and the clinical smell clung to my clothes hours after we'd returned home. The drive tired my eyes and burnt up all my wages in fuel. But despite his whining and crying, complaining and whimpering, I did it without a second thought.

I sat by his bed when they stuck drips in his arms, and filled his hands with pills. I'd come with him, every time he'd turned to me with fear in his eyes and asked not to be alone. I held his frail body to mine after the gruelling physio sessions that never seemed to help. The exercises he went through to make his legs work only seemed to put him in more pain than before. And as his independence fell away, so did his vitality and spark, until after every session we sat together, me silently letting his tears soak into my hair.

I remember turning up to the doctor's office as the months wore on and sitting in the squeaky fake leather chairs as he reeled off hours worth of jargon and rubbish. And I recall, as inevitably the nurses recommended him using a crutch. Slowly, month by wearisome month, one crutch turned into two, until eventually we arrived at this memory that I held so close to my heart.

****

My cheap trainers left marks on the polished floor as I moved them nervously, trying to block off more and more bad news. The drive to hospital had been made ironically jolly. Our sullen faces and sunken eyes were lit up from both sides by jovial decorations and mundane plastic lights as we'd driven down the little roads out of town. Hidan's heart had sunk further at the sight of other teenagers his age walking with their girlfriends in the snow. He and I both knew what the outcome of this visit would be. No longer would he leave laboured footprints behind him, or ever have to buy another pair of shoes. I stayed silent, letting him have his space to think. Anyway, I had no more words to say.

We pulled up at the hospital early. Both of us were too restless to wait any longer, and I'd gotten here much sooner than expected due to taking all the giant motorways which were easier on the suspension and Hidan's aching legs.

"We're here" I announced quietly, and almost jumped at the sound of my own voice, such was the oppressive silence in the car. I opened the door and shivered at the cold when it hit me like icicles; it was a complete contrast to the heat of the car, as I was constantly worried about keeping Hidan warm and comfortable.

The big grey car park outside matched the big grey building behind almost perfectly and only my bright car stood out against the monotony. I helped Hidan from the back seats where he was slumped with his legs propped up on the seats. He winced almost immediately upon moving them and I was once again glad we were finally here, to get the news we all knew was coming.

With one pale hand over my shoulder he stumbled along with me. He hung onto my coat for dear life and pulled it painfully around my neck but I didn't complain. His face was creased up with pain and effort and sweat was pouring off his brow, but I simply held him tighter as we struggled towards the lift. People stared at us as we passed, and I just glared right back into their faces, wanting only to spit into their eyes so they could stare at him no longer. We passed by, hearing the whispers erupt behind our retreating backs. I guided Hidan past the crowds to the bank of gleaming lifts along the wall. Stairs were out of the question, so as the lift doors closed with a hiss a laid him gently on the floor where he slouched with a groan.

The cold marble soothed his thighs and he rested his head on the wall behind. Less than a minute of walking had reduced him to this, and as our eyes met I did nothing to hide my sadness. His clothes hung limp with sweat when the doors opened again into a plush corridor. A doctor met us with a clipboard, a folder of records and a stern expression. I could barely contain my disdain – he knew everything about the illness that plagued my friend, yet nothing about living with it. The thought came like a wedge between us as he led us to a sumptuous wood panelled consultant's office with gleaming glass desks and post modern furniture. Sitting himself down self importantly, he began by shuffling some papers that I assumed were Hidan's medical records. Then, clearing his throat he started going over everything to date. The accident, the heart surgery, all the different drugs they'd put him on, and all the different ways they'd failed.

He stalled and pussyfooted around the subject for a good hour, waving his hands at the right moments and wasting time by taking Hidan's pulse and blood pressure. It wasn't until he'd introduced the new medicine in a way that would wow most advertising campaigns that the bad news finally came out.

"I am sorry" he began, "but you're going to have to consider using a wheelchair."

"Mmph" Hidan whimpered, nodding his head sadly and screwing his eyes shut against the tears. I reached over to comfort him, and as my hand touched his he trembled visibly. His skin felt hot to the touch, and I wondered briefly whether this was the strangeness Kisame had mentioned to me a few months earlier. He'd seemed pretty secretive then, and Hidan seemed pretty messed up now. The shock wasn't going down well with either of us, so when he turned to me and asked

"C- can I have a minute . . . alone" I let him.

He stumbled to get up, and grabbed the desk for support.

"Hidan," his consultant said softly, grabbing his attention then nodding to the left. We both followed his gaze and up against the wall stood a chair, the one he'd be using for the rest of his life.

A minute of silence followed. I half expected him to start shouting and throwing things, but instead he struggled over to it and slumped down with a heavy sigh. He looked so vulnerable and frail, like a porcelain doll. I watched him grab the wheels and steer himself out of the consulting room door with fevered energy, and suppressed a wave of worry over where he was going. I had to remember that he still needed his privacy, so with a gulp and a tissue to firmly wipe away my tears, I started the inevitable conversation with the doctor.

"The cost for the chair and the special bed . . . ?" I began, feeling mine and Kisame's wedding being pushed firmly to the bottom of the list.

3 (Zetsu)

Watching Hidan watching Deidara . . .

My expensive shoes clicked loudly on the shining white marble floor, turning silent as I stepped onto a sumptuous deep brown rug. I paced up and down the airport hotel's atrium, thinking and fussing, before striding purposefully out into the cold. I needed to clear my head, get out of that stuffy room full of the sound of tears and the smell of death. Cold wind whipped around me, and I realized my brand new Miu Miu jacket was still hung over the back of that cheap softwood chair.

I shuddered. And then stopped. Was I shivering at the cold? No. And it wasn't even the thought of my ravaged designer gear that was giving me goosebumps. A sudden realization had hit me like a punch in the stomach. Who or what had I turned myself into? There was no one around to pull me up on my pronunciation of French words, or introduce me to new gourmet restaurants. Yet I couldn't seem to drop the act. I almost smirked. I knew I liked it.

A beautifully decorated shop window caught my eye and pulled me from my silent contemplation. My footsteps slowed and my mind whirred. I peered through the glass at the sight before me; each different aspect of it relayed a story back to me. . . A stunning bride stole the show, her dress shone a cleaner white than the snow lying around the pavement and a lavish fur shrug lay across her shoulders. Next to her a tall man stood, dressed tastefully in a crisp black suit complete with waistcoat and cufflinks. His shiny black plastic hair hung in his face – a recreation of the latest style, while hers was pulled up into gravity-defying blonde curls. I stood and looked at them, stuck forever in their stiff poses, with the gleaming white gold ring always just inches from her finger. I bet they stood there, day after day and through the freezing nights, changing bridal outfits with each passing week. But that ring was never worn, they were stuck in time, perpetually getting married. Or 'tying the knot' as Hidan always put it. I hated the scummy slang my friends all used. But it made me slip back and remember.

* * *

"It's clearly part of the late modernist Bauhaus development" I chatted down the phone to Sasori who was on the other end. He was writing a brief essay before our courses started back up again in a few short weeks. Just for entertainment of course, the actual assignments were far more in depth, not to insinuate his private library was anything less than splendid.

"Oh but of course!" he exclaimed, and I noted how each of his words were clearly and properly pronounced. I'd have to watch myself around my old friends, my old lazy speech habits might return, and that would just be embarrassing.

"Cheerio then old chap" I laughed, hanging up and staring around the table for a clean spot to lay my iphone. I grimaced, not a single inch of the kitchen remained unpolluted. The place was a mess. No sunlight came through the window, because it looked out onto the side wall of the next terrace. The lack of light, however, only made the stacks of rubbish and dirty crockery look worse. The sink was full of week old frying pans caked with grease, and a single tap was dripping steadily onto the rusty mess, irritating me beyond measure.

A burnt out toaster stood nearby with more filthy plates cascading off the top of it, and dried food coating the kitchen drawers and the counter. To my left, the fridge hung open from where Deidara had just left it swinging. Inside gone off milk fought for position among cold pizza and microwave burgers. The smell was disgusting. Under my feet, mouldy bits of old kebab sat and rotted with no one to clean them up, and all manner of empty chocolate wrappers and rubbish spilled over from the bin. The small windowsill was crowded with beer and vodka bottles, almost if some mad kleptomaniac was collecting them up, and spare food and half empty jars were stacked precariously on top of each other. I preferred not to look around me or even think about how long half of the filth had been lying around for.

"What-cha lookin at?" came a voice from across the muck-strewn table. It was Deidara trying to speak with a face full of Chinese take-away. I'd been here when he'd ordered the damn family meal from the place down the road, I also saw myself losing a fiver in the bet he wouldn't eat it all. It was about 3 in the afternoon, one dreary September and the clouds were piling up outside. It was clear Deidara was simply bored.

"Want some prawn crackers?" he offered, while noodles slid over his chin.

"No thanks" I replied disdainfully and got up to leave. I slid gracefully off the chair and tiptoed around the worst of the mess towards the hall. But a sudden movement by the door caught my eye; someone was hiding behind the buckled wooden frame and peeking through the gap by the hinges. Slowly I sat back down, amused, and expecting a badly timed cry of 'SURPRISE' from a drunken Pein.

But it never came.

If I strained my ears all I could hear was a muffled breathing, which Deidara was oblivious to – all he could hear was his own slurping and chomping. Curious, I moved the cheap plastic chair around to the other side of the table and looked directly through the door.

A figure sat outside, staring intently into the dank interior of the kitchen. It was unmistakably Hidan. He was slumped in his wheelchair, both legs resting weakly in front of him. Both legs were spread. His eyes were screwed up like slits and he was trying to stay as quiet as possible, I could tell by the way he bit his bottom lip. Beside me, Deidara wolfed down another mammoth forkful of slippery noodles and plasticky meat, clumsily dropping some onto his already stretched t-shirt.

If I listened carefully, I could hear a muffled groan from outside.

How long had he been there?

I turned back around with my elbows on the table, and watched Deidara reach into the paper bag and pull out another polystyrene box. They were stacking up beside him at an alarming rate, piling higher on top of the mess and litter already surrounding us. He'd been eating out of the Chinese take away bag for nearly half an hour now. That thing was like a magic trick – it never seemed to run out! This box was filled to the brim with chicken balls, how the devils got chicken into a shape like that I didn't want to know.

"Sweet and sour" he scoffed through a mouthful of spring rolls, and managed to cram another handful of chicken inside his overstuffed mouth, nodding appreciatively. I grimaced and looked away as he swallowed; I couldn't help but think what all that rubbish was doing to his body. Although, I thought ironically, I could already see it with my own eyes. As I watched his hand dropped to his stomach and rested there for a long moment before he started massaging his aching belly, the rolls of fat and flab moved along with the motion,

"_Mm . . ."_ I heard Hidan exhale heavily from outside the kitchen door.

I think I got the picture.

Part of me wanted to leave, and let this sick game play out on its own, but the other part, the mean domineering part wanted to put Hidan through a living hell now I'd discovered his dirty secret.

Getting up, I reached over to the cupboard.

"Cookie?" I asked, offering the box of giant chocolate chips I'd bought on a whim the other day. Deidara accepted, as I knew he would. He swallowed the mouthful of fried rice he was munching on and grabbed two cookies instead, as if he thought I'd eat them all if he didn't get them off me quick. Stuffing them into his mouth he nodded as crumbs tumbled over his belly, and gathered in pools on his chest.

I could almost _hear_ Hidan's frustration, and it made me feel so good inside that I handed over the entire tray. I watched in morbid fascination as he devoured one after another, his hand moved constantly from the box to his mouth and back again, never tiring.

For Hidan, time seemed to slow down. The chocolate mixed with the grease on the blonde's lips sent his pulse and temperature soaring. Frustration and heat was building inside him, as insatiable as Deidara's appetite. Slowly he slipped a hand down inside his pants, tensing again when another few spoonfuls of fatty rice tumbled inside his friend's open mouth.

"_Mmmph!"_ he bit down hard on his lip in a last ditch attempt to remain silent. He was too hot, what he was watching was wrong, what he was doing was wrong. But the fires couldn't be extinguished now; it was too late, far too late.

The empty cookie tray tumbled forgotten to the floor when Deidara's searching pudgy fingers found no more treats inside. And he once again tucked into the Chinese meal which was steadily growing colder and congealing inside the funny paper boxes. He found that often – that the bigger meals tended to go cold before you could finish that last quarter of a portion. It never made a difference though, he could put it through the filthy microwave, or –what he did most of the time – just gobble it up cold.

I watched while he shovelled more sticky sauce and meat onto his plate, and slopped a load of greasy noodles over the top. Impossibly, he reached for the mayonnaise, dolloping a huge glob on the side,

"Why . . ?" I murmured,

"I . . . I have to!" he hissed

"_G – God"_ came the groan I'd been waiting for. Outside, it seemed Hidan could take it no longer. A low groan rumbled deep in his throat and hastily he began to satisfy himself, hoping nobody could hear.

"Dei – Dei –_oh ... yeah_" he moaned, hunching over and giving in to the urge. Even Deidara heard him this time.

"Job for you" I smirked as he wobbled to his feet and slowly peered around the door.

**

The curiosity on his face was quickly erased, and replaced by anger, then incomprehension.

"It's – it's not what it looks like!" Hidan panted, clutching his numb leg with one hand until his knuckles turned white, while the other hand pushed faster and faster over his fiery hot flesh. He desperately wished Deidara would have the decency to look away. But, he told himself, he'd just been caught in the act of spying on his friends own privacy. Wasn't he equally guilty of the same crime?

"It's not what?" Deidara hissed, taking a step nearer to the pathetic man before him. Anger and hurt were rushing through his veins and he could feel his heartbeat in his clenched fists. But as he stepped forwards into the cramped corridor, a corner of his thin, stained t-shirt caught on a nail on the doorframe. One step more and the small tear turned into a giant rip, giving a clear view of his ample body. Pale ripples of flesh pressed up against the remaining fabric, and spilled over the waistband of his jeans.

Hidan visibly tensed. Determined not to say anything more to insult his friend he clenched his teeth and stayed silent. His eyes – already barely slits- closed and squinted shut when he could no longer meet Deidara's gaze. He bit his lip so hard blood began to trickle down and over his chin, and the nails on his hand dug painfully into his thigh. Both hands clenched up, and he hunched over agonisingly slowly.

That's when the shakes started,

"Uh . . .ugh" he groaned as his legs twitched uncontrollably. The weak muscles jumped and spasmed, and when it got worse he placed two cold hands on them, trying to hold them still. Then his arms started going too, and his only remaining strength was spent.

"ahh . . .a . . .a" he whimpered as the violent shakes increased, and tears of frustration tumbled from his wretched eyes. Was no one going to help him?

Above him, Deidara simply watched as his best friends trembling deteriorated into a fit

"Deidara! Hell!" Kakuzu shouted in disbelief as he came around the corner to find Hidan convulsing in his chair, amid old Chinese strewn all over the hall. Completely alone.

"He needs help!" he sounded appalled, and made to step forwards into the gap between himself and Hidan. The shout seemed to wake Deidara from his reverie of spite and malice, and finally – almost too late- he went to his friends aid.

He grabbed Hidan's small convulsing body and helped him out of his chair and onto the floor,

"You shouldn't have watched me . . ." he growled, his voice deep and scolding. Hidan noticed his dark eyes, glowing with animosity the like of which he'd never seen there before. But the shakes were too strong, and the need was too raw for him to think coherently. Chills and flushes fought for position as he grappled with his belt, but his fingers were slipping and sliding with sweat. He flinched then and felt cold air rush up to meet him, looking down with relief he saw a gaping rip in the denim between his legs. Deidara slowly tore the rip wider, before forcing into him like a piston. The fresh red pain was all but obliterated by the heat and the fire and the hard hard _man._

"_AARRGH!!" _Hidan screamed, and took fistfuls of Deidara's fat into his shaking hands. He couldn't focus, he couldn't see or hear. All he could manage was to** feel. **He felt the giant thickness pushing deeper into him, it felt like it was splitting him open and it was glorious, truly glorious. He felt Deidara's soft body heaving on top of him, taking over every one of his senses that was still working and filling them with bare red lust. He felt his back leave the floor as it arched in pleasure and need, and somewhere inside he felt the rumble of a deep and sensual groan. He felt his legs tingling and aching and with every thrust Deidara made, he felt them jerk and shoot beautiful sensations right to his core.

He felt the sweat trickling through his hair, and the cold floor thumping into his shoulders when Deidara slammed into him again and again. He imagined he could feel bruises erupting where chunky fingers clasped at his upper arms, causing agony where his veins had collapsed. He ran his hands up and down the body above him, feeling every curve and swell. His palms pushed flat against the excess flab, clutched and touched and explored. He couldn't get enough; his hands skated across every inch of Deidara he could reach, squeezing him obsessively. He wished with all his heart and mind that he could lift up those weak legs of his, and wrap them tightly around Deidara's belly, feel the rise and fall of Deidara's chest as he panted for breath.

The pressure inside him was beginning to build to breaking point, and his frenzied caress grew more desperate. He felt the tingling spread through him, a glowing burning feeling that he wished would never end.

"A-Arrgh . ...mmph" he groaned, moving a hand down from Deidara's soft shoulder to his groin. His legs felt hot, his crotch even hotter and he clutched himself with relief. Pumping harder and faster his breaths got shallower, and his moans grew louder. He heard his heartbeat in his ears, he felt Deidara's heaves grow harder, and slowly he felt the end approaching.

He felt . . . he felt the shakes subsiding . . . his breath returning. He felt his own hot seed splatter between his chest and Deidara's. A pause. Then again.

"_uhh. . . ." _he sighed, listening to the ebb and flow of his own breath, and simply luxuriating in the shear relief.

_WATCH THIS SPACE . . . _

TO BE CONTINUED . . . . .


	11. Memories part 2

Memories Part B

_Silence still strived to fill the room with its presence. People sat, here and there with their heads bowed to the darkness. Kakuzu had always taken bad news in his stride, but this was something else altogether._

_The starched curtains hung just as they had before, when there'd been seven hearts beating in the room instead of six. The plain furniture didn't seem to have broken to pieces as his soul rushed by on its way to the afterlife, and the tacky polish wasn't even scratched. Bleached white linen sheets seemed cold and barren, the paintings on the wall all seemed like fakes in this new light, and the astonishing lifelessness of the room struck him in the chest. The meaningless wealth confounded him._

_What a place to live in . . . what a place to die._

_Suddenly the plush interior and expensive price tag of the room seemed irrelevant. The place was just as impersonal and hollow as it had been before. _

_Impersonal and . . .dead._

4. Deidara

My frantic fingers punched in the number again, hitting all the wrong keys in my haste. I stopped, took a breath and tried again. The receiver shook in my pudgy fist, with grief and nerves and ultimately, shame. What Kisame was mumbling was true; fatty _was_ calling up room service. Or at least, trying to. It was like an instant reaction, one that I had no control over. Something bad happened and the craving was sent instantly to my brain, without stopping by to check my conscience. I wanted cakes and deserts, fresh creamy puddings and chocolate sauce. Stodgy toffee pudding and custard. Anything, everything, sweet and chewy! The rampaging craving . . . It had gotten me in so much shit before.

"_Why do you do it?"_ they asked me. When I feel like I should be asking them why they don't!

"_Think of us before you rush ahead and do it" _They plead, and that makes me feel even worse, because I just don't. The craving arrives quickly on the heels of the bad news, and there is no_ time_ to think or act. Just reach for the fridge door, or the cupboard. Sometimes there's not even time for cutlery. And I sit there, working away until the craving is sated and I feel calm again. And only then does the guilt slowly trickle through, and the shame comes after that, and then lastly the hiding. I'd hustle quietly around the place, hiding all the wrappers and packets and dirty plates so no one can tell.

He always knew though. Always.

It was like some psychic ability, which was ironic since the only other abilities he seemed to possess were lazing about and taking drugs. I stopped and chided myself. It wasn't fair to speak about a friend that way, especially since they stepped so carefully around me. They hated insulting me too.

My fingers slowed on the buttons, id got through to room service.

'_Press one for cleaning . . . press two for maintenance'_

"Come on! Come on!" I cried

'_Press three for catering-'_

"Yes!" I exclaimed and punched the 3 button down hard a couple of times. A woman with a tinny voice spoke on the other end of the line after a few seconds

'_Room numb_er?'She demanded, and I replied instantly, the eagerness coating my voice with honey. Her voice softened in response to mine as she asked what it was that I needed

"A selection of deserts" I hurried, "and three servings of the chocolate pudding" I'd really overdone it this time and I knew it. Room service cost a bomb and the food I'd ordered was just for me alone. I didn't care though, and with another sugary goodbye I hung up the phone and waited.

I didn't need to wait long. I'd hoped a few more people would have left the room by now, but still a stubborn few remained. They'd have to watch. It wasn't as if . . . as if . . . it mattered. Not anymore.

I clenched my fists around my heart as a sob inched its way up my throat. The grief was getting through and my hands were barely on the desert tray yet. Hurriedly I paid the waiter, and even as I stood there I tried to conceal how much money was being handed over. I was ashamed.

Heaving the trays over to the table was a mission, and heaving my bulk into the chair was another. I felt my footfalls shaking the floor, and felt the cabinet wobble as I waddled past. A steady thump thump echoed round the room, and I was glad no breakables lay nearby. It was a humiliating but otherwise unavoidable part of being me.

I could feel people's eyes on me now but I left them to it. There was something I needed to do. In front of me the three chocolate amaretti puddings glistened, and thick fudgy sauce oozed around them. A solid lump of cheesecake to the right of them had lemon drizzle dripping down the sides, and to the left stood a towering decorative glass filled with ice cream, fruit and jelly – a Knickerbocker glory. The first thing I noticed was that the spoon they'd given me was altogether too small. So I took measures into my own hands. Literally. I tried not to think of Hidan, my friend's body, still warm over on the bed. I crammed more and more of the spongy hot pudding into my mouth without even tasting it. My fingers were covered, my lips smacked and I swallowed, hard. The rest followed. Whatever would they think of me after this?

As I chewed and munched my way through the food that I didn't want let alone need, I let my mind wander so as to focus less on what I was doing. This reminded me of a day out in town a long time ago, when the wind was fresh and the snow had just melted. It was march and spring was in full bloom. The cold wind felt chilly in my wet hair as I pushed Hidan down the path from the swimming baths. We'd been swimming that afternoon. I remembered it well. Kakuzu had come storming into the kitchen, all guns blazing to find me slowly consuming one ready meal after another. I was giving a running commentary on each one, where it came from, what it was, whether it was nice or not. Hidan didn't seem to be listening at all though, he was completely off his head, sitting in his wheelchair and staring blankly out of the window. The lights were on but no one was home, I could tell by the complete _nothingness _on his face.

I was halfway through a large macaroni cheese when Kakuzu demanded that I lose weight. "Do you ever stop eating?" he'd raged, "you've put on a stone and a half since last week!"

I almost dropped my fork in shock. Even Hidan tried to turn round, but he couldn't focus on either of us, so he just gave up. A few crumpled notes were shoved into my hand, along with a harsh whisper in my ear to _'go do some sport.'_

I stared quizzically at him for a few seconds. And he shoved a leaflet for the swimming pool into my hands.

"Go to the pool", he suggested. "It might help his legs to get them moving a bit. And you could sure use the exercise" he added in an undertone. I glared. I needed to get out of the house now. I felt dirty and insulted, so without a question I accepted the money and we left.

I walked, pushing Hidan's chair further and further out of town following the directions on the leaflet. We walked out of the shopping district and into an industrial wasteland. Plants and shrubs had burst through the concrete and it was hellish trying to get the wheelchair through. Rusty iron gates and old scaffolding lay about, I wondered whether we'd gotten lost. Or if this was just some wild goose chase to keep me busy while Kakuzu cleaned out all my junk food from the house. We'd walked about a quarter of a mile now. More than I'd do in a week. My back was aching, and the litter strewn grass on either side just seemed to get more polluted. I bet the bastard had sent us to the cheapest place in town.

I was right.

The 'baths' were probably last renovated in the 1970's. It cost less than a fiver for us both to get in. The receptionist was old, with nasty orange lipstick smeared everywhere but her lips. Cracked lino served as a floor covering in the hall and changing rooms, and old yellowing tiles covered the walls. I almost wished Hidan was still in a drug-induced haze so he wouldn't have to see the shithole Id brought him too. I blanched at a new thought. What colour would the water be?

Getting changed was a trial, it was cold and draughty and damn those swimming shorts were old and tight. Hidan's hung off him like rags and he had to tie extra knots to keep them on. Mine were bulging at the seams. It seemed like an eternity waiting for the lifeguards to assemble the clumsy machine to lower Hidan into the water. I had to stand at the side for ten minutes while pubescent ten year olds laughed and pointed. I could lift him into the water myself! I argued. But everything had to be done according to rules and regulations. I wondered if Kakuzu had had anything to do with this too.

Needless to say, the pool was freezing. I swore it was a subzero hell hole. Did they use this place for torture off season? The tiles on the bottom of the pool might once have been white but now they were coated by a thin layer of slime . . . other people's hair . . . old plasters. I took another breath; it was even hard to breathe in here. Or maybe it had been the climb down the flimsy rusty ladder into the water that had stolen my breath away. Hidan didn't seem to care though; he was still struggling to stay afloat.

"Put your feet on the bottom and stand up" I laughed, before realizing my own words. That earned me a baleful stare. I could tell he was uncomfortable here, not because of the squalid surroundings but because every angry red needle mark was clear to see, and every self made scar on his thighs was on show. I pulled him close to me, hearing him whimper as the currents in the water made his legs move. My chest was warm and soft, I knew, and he laid his head there for a moment – just resting.

"Let's move" I whispered.

I placed both hands carefully under his torso and raised him up in the water. He panicked, thinking he was sinking and his arms lashed out in a wild dance. His legs, however, remained utterly still.

"Shhh! It's ok" I comforted him, and placed a quick kiss on the side of his head.

"I don't . . . I don't remember how to . . ." he gestured at the water and my heart sank. It was almost cruel to bring him here and remind him. Years ago he would have been jumping off the side with the rest of the crazy youngsters and trying to do a flip without having the whistle blown on him. Now . . . he could barely remember how to swim.

"You don't have to" I murmured quietly, "move slowly, I've got you"

I tried to encourage him to move his arms and legs at the same pace, in the hope that something somewhere might click and the wretched things would give a twitch or a jerk or _anything._ But they just trailed behind him like ribbons on a parade as he fought valiantly with his arms instead. We moved slowly around the pool as the hands on the clock turned gradually round, and the sun outside the giant glass window descended.

I looked down at Hidan, still resting upon my hands. It sounded like he needed a break, he was gasping for air. I guess all this effort must have really exhausted him. I'd seen the concentration on his face reflected in the water, he'd been giving it everything he'd got. But those legs remained stubbornly still.

"Let's get out of here" I said, and moved my hands to hoist him up out of the filthy pool and onto dry land. But as I moved I touched something . . . something hard . . . and hot.

"_I'm sorry"_ Hidan whispered

I gasped, the quick inhalation of breath hurt my chest, but it was so unexpected. Here? In this foul place?

He winced again as the gradual swirl and flow of the water pulled at his legs. I watched the expressions on his face as the pain flared once more, and I felt the twitching between his legs as his arousal _burned_. Sickeningly.

I stood, still holding him as my mind raced, wondering what on earth to do. I figured, ironically, that the exertion must have triggered something after all. The water seemed to be getting colder; even I was shivering now, so I pulled him closer to me and wrapped my arms tightly around his body. He tried to do the same, but I doubted if anyone's arms could fit around me anymore. The shame of it hadn't left me in the hours Id been hanging around in the water. The laughing kids had left, but there was still the lifeguards to look at me, to snigger behind their plastic water cups and clipboards. I could imagine it now, me heaving Hidan out of the pool and then following behind. Trying to pull my bulk out of the water gracefully, when I fully expected my swimming trunks were a disgrace. My belly hung over the waistband of them and my chunky thighs pressed tightly against the fabric. God I couldn't wait for this torture to be over.

"Deidara . . . can we . . . go please?" his voice was barely more than a whisper, strained and desperate. I realized id kept him here too long. It was time to get this over with.

I lifted Hidan out, and placed him on the freezing tiles, he scratched and scrabbled about, trying to sit up and cover as much of his body as he could. I followed as quickly as the slippery pool ladder would allow, I was terrified it would give way under me. By the time the pool officials had arrived with a wheelchair, Hidan was barely keeping his hands off himself. His breathing was heavy, hissing through clenched teeth, and it was only the embarrassment that kept his hands firmly at his sides.

I wheeled him into the changing rooms, to put some walls between us and the lifeguards with their piercing eyes. The place smelled of chlorine and old socks so I took a left into the showers and crossed my fingers that they'd be warm. The water would help his legs, I hoped, because right now they looked sore and cramped. I guess the cold and the strain put together had really taken it out on him, what he needed now was a nice warm bed, not a draughty old changing room and –

" - Not another fix" I groaned, as I caught him out of the corner of my eye, rooting about in his bag. My back turned, I only heard the harsh sounds of his snorting as he took the drug into his body. I didn't want to hear, and I didn't want to know. Worst of all, I didn't want to meet his glazed eyes when he finally joined me in the showers. From between the hissing jets of water, I risked a glance his way and saw him staring back at me. One hand covered his mouth, trying to smother the groans that rumbled up from deep in his throat and he looked at me like a piece of meat. Chills ran through me from head to toe.

The hot water flew around me, filling the room with fragrant white steam; I pulled out a bottle of posh hair wash and proceeded to wash my long blonde locks. My belly jiggled with each motion I made, and though I passed the shampoo to Hidan he didn't seem to care, it dropped to the floor and the expensive pink goo washed steadily down the drain. I could see him through the mist and bubbles, staring at me without a smile. His hands shook but he paid them no attention, nor did he even try to satisfy himself. His groans that echoed around the room were impossible to ignore, but I knew that what he really wanted was me.

I could tell it was getting harder for him to resist. He was already bucking his hips subconsciously, aching for there to be someone there. I moved softly to him, smelling of floral shampoo and chlorine and put my wet hands on his shoulders. His were on me instantly, pushing and pulling and squeezing my belly, getting me right where he wanted me. I took him around the waist and pulled him on top of my soft body, then sank to the floor. Hot water showered down on top of us, but he was still bucking madly. This wasn't how it was supposed to go!

"Deidara . . . I want . . ." he murmured, whilst hastily undoing the ties on my trunks. My stomach flipped. He stopped then, hunching over and groaning, before resuming his work. It seemed he really couldn't hang on much longer. His breathing was becoming unsteady, his heartbeat was quite possibly irregular, his hands were shaking worse than ever and he had to keep stopping. In the end I felt the cold sting of the floor beneath my back, and felt his warm skin touching me, flesh on flesh.

Using a hot water pipe to help me, I dragged myself to my knees, intending to slip between Hidan's weak thighs and get this game over with before he snapped. But he slapped me away, anger and frustration gleamed in his narrowed eyes

"I'm sick of you helping me! You fat fuck" he cried,

"Just let me, this once" I offered. He looked so vulnerable slumped like that on the floor, but I ignored the comment. It hurt deeply to be insulted by a friend. Especially one as close as him, "let me this once" I tried again,

"No! Not anymore!" he was crying now, "I'd rather . . . I'd rather- "

"Have a fit?" I finished quietly

"No" he replied, in a small pathetic voice, and I could tell he meant very little of what he'd just said.

"Come to me" I commanded, and he slipped closer. Pink shampoo covered our knees, and our hair hung wet and damp. We looked like a couple of girls!

I watched it all slip away, more colour draining away with the water. The steady trickle and drip of it was the only sound I could hear as he hauled himself closer. I took his frail body in my hands, treating it delicately as if he were a woman all tender and breakable. But I could feel his heat pulsing, feel his hard body and smell that maddening aroma and I knew indeed that he was a man.

His body lay between my thighs now, his bony chest resting on my huge pillowy one. My legs were parted and between them I felt his hardness pressing so tightly against me, ashamed as I was to admit it to myself, I groaned.

"Dei I- I can't" he hissed, "m-my legs . . ."

"Try" was the only word I offered, and I felt him buck into me, hard.

"_Yes"_ he whined

I figured he'd need a lot of help, so I reached around him, taking his butt in my hands and pushing him. He had no use of his legs and had no means of thrusting, this would have to do. I felt him force into me moments later, and the pain nearly blinded me. I felt like a masochist, pushing and pulling him faster and faster to emulate the act of sex. It hurt and yet, ultimately I was doing this to myself.

As he was pushed deeper and deeper into me, the muscles in his arms locked up with stress. Claws dug into my arms, his lips curled back into a snarl, and creases turned his face into an ugly mask. He'd never felt anything like it.

"_Oh_! Oh God Dei I – _Aaarrghh_!" he cried. Sweat from his brow flicked into my eyes as he curled over, burying his face in my wobbling chest. I felt his stomach muscles; they were knotted up like rope as if he was tensed ready to spring. His legs however, felt loose and limp in my hands. There was no strength in them whatsoever. It seemed as if one half of his body was ready to explode and the other half was already dead.

Small gurgling sounds burst from his throat when I changed our pace, rushing him faster to the end. My arms were burning and I was _stinging _from the pain of it, I wanted this to be over so badly. But one look at the expression of ecstasy on his face told me I had to see this through to the end. His body shook as I pulled him into me, then shoved him roughly out again, only to take him and drag him right back seconds later. Whimpers grew quickly into cries, and sweet murmurs of my name few out of his mouth louder and louder until they were more like shouts.

I held him as he shook, hard, and made not a sound when his fingers dug into my flabby arms. Somewhere deep inside of me I assumed his seed was resting, but I hadn't felt it shoot into me, neither did I feel him slip out. I caressed him then, and whispered to him until he felt safe, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't going to fit. Not here, not tonight.

Later, sitting wrapped and covered in towels on the hard wooden bench, fingers all crinkled from the water and hair smelling beautiful, he called out to me.

"Dei! Look"

I turned around, not sure what to expect. His voice sounded so uplifted, so joyous. I hadn't heard a sound like that from him for years.

"Look!" he cried again, "look what I can do"

I met his eyes for a second, noticing how bright they were. Then my gaze dropped to see what he was looking at. His eyes were focused on his foot, and he was biting his lip, concentrating so hard, and his fist was clenched tight around the wooden armrest of the bench. I watched with baited breath, then when I thought he was having me on, his big toe . . . twitched.

He groaned, and let out a great sigh. Even that was extremely hard work for him, but my chest swelled with pride. His smile lit up the entire room.

* * *

5 Kisame

When my boot had connected with his frail ribs id felt a certain rush of adrenalin. But seeing him now, pale, still and cold as the driven snow I couldn't help but feel a slight guilt, a slight sinking sensation between my own ribs and my stomach. I guess the bruise was still there, blossoming somewhere under that cheap t shirt. I'd become somewhat of an expert on bruises over the years, but whether they occurred after death I didn't know.

I sat and pondered, gazing at those dark eyelashes. Would they notice if I pulled them out? My eyes drifted over him, picking out the stark red drops of blood that lingered and taking note of the way his legs lay askew . . . broken.

In fact . . . they did look broken. I'd become slightly more accustomed to broken bones than most. Educated in hiding them, excusing them and blending make up to cover the bruising. I ran my own hands down his legs, ignoring the violated stares of the few left in the room.

And there it was – a swollen bump, tender to the touch. I guessed there was a break underneath. If you looked closely you could see the strange angle of his shin bone. How had it happened? Why hadn't anyone noticed? No one was very perceptive around here, and that was the truth. I guess right now they were all too busy. Across the room I could hear Deidara on the phone, impossibly calling up room service for some meal or other. I guess we were all a victim of our own desires in the end. A thought that took me back . . . right back.

It was a sticky summer night. The air felt close and muggy and the wind was dead. Everything sat absolutely still in the oppressive silence, and the rest of us tossed and turned in restless sleep. Next to me I felt _her_ lying still as a doll. I could tell she was awake, yet not moving a muscle in case she angered me again. Even her lying there pretending to be asleep _annoyed_ me. I ground my teeth while anger boiled away in my blood. Her breathing, her scent, the mere _inferiority _of her, and the space she took up in my bed! It rolled round in my head building and building and it took all I had not to reach over there again and . . .

I remember waking every half hour and checking the clock – trying to figure out whether it was time to get up now and end this stupid night, but every time the red digital read out was just the same. The tiny hours of the morning crawled by like insects, but it was thanks to my insomnia that I woke to hear . . . him.

It was the rattling that roused me. It tumbled round in my ears, gradually waking me from a dreamless sleep. It brought only more irritation. I threw off the duvet, striding from the room to walk off my anger lest I turn it over onto _her _again. If it was next doors cat scratching on the walls again I'd . . . That mongrel! I'd . . . .

_Calm_

My hand pressed flat on the wood of the door in the dark. I hadn't looked where I'd been walking; I was following the noise, noticing where it got louder. It had led me to this corner of the poky flat, where the darkness seemed to be blacker still. I pushed the door wide, and stepped through.

The bed was the first thing that filled my view. A big, white monster of a thing which took up most of the space in the tiny bedroom. A slight hum came from the equipment on it and the electricity that powered the hinges on its movable mattress. You could fold the damn thing up like a deckchair I wouldn't doubt. It seemed to almost glow in the murky gloom, intimidating and almost threatening. I had to contort my body to edge round the bulky frame; it was right in my flaming way. The bottom end stuck out, raised to support the weak legs of the man in it.

The rattling increased. Even as I stood there I saw he was the one shaking. His arms were shuddering but the real motion came from his body. His back arched and his legs trembled out of control. The bars along the sides of his bed were rattling as he threw himself against them again and again.

I stopped, caught my breath, then launched myself into helping him, ultimately from himself. I knew what to do, we'd all learnt soon enough. I checked inside his mouth, to make sure he hadn't swallowed his tongue. Carefully the blankets around his neck were loosened just in case they restricted his breathing, then I replaced a soft pillow under his head and checked my watch. If the fit lasted more than five minutes I knew to call . . . someone. That someone being Deidara of course.

Small gasps of frustration passed his dry lips. But I only sat and comforted him, not sure if he could hear me or not. His eyes were rolling and his body was convulsing violently. He looked so pathetic and vulnerable, tangled in the sweat soaked blankets. My hand slowly stroked his hair, and the numbers on my watch raced further and further up towards five.

Anxiety churned deep in my stomach. I might look the big man on the outside, but inside I was beginning to wonder when and if this would end. My watch read 04:35 and still he was shaking strongly. I got up, with worry making my mouth taste sour, and reached into the hospital style bed to lift him up. I knew I shouldn't. I knew I should leave him be, leave him where he was and not move him an inch.

But Deidara wasn't allowed in this special bed. The legs of the bed and the electric hinges under the mattress couldn't take his weight. The electronics and folding mechanics would strain and break, and the wooden slats holding most of it up would splinter and break. Not to mention the tiny delicate springs that would get utterly crushed by a bulk such as his. No. We all knew it, but when we talked we created interesting little reasons of our own. It's a terrible thing to insult a friend.

Still, Hidan felt light in my arms, lighter than I expected when I scooped him up. I carried him quickly down the hall, shushing his quiet groans and trying hard not to drop him when he trembled constantly. The sliding door to Deidara's small converted room stood open ahead. It was cold, almost freezing in this part of the flat. It used to be just a gap between our flat and the next, an empty dusty space that no one ever used. But since we'd all moved in together a couple of months back, we'd needed the extra space. The room was still bitterly cold and cramped, even in this muggy, close, humid bitch of a night.

"Dei!" I hissed, "Dei wake up!" I kicked his foot, to try and wake him.

"Deidara wake up!" I demanded a little louder, with a slight note of urgency creeping into my voice.

Slowly he turned, and the blankets slipped from around his fleshy shoulders, tumbling down his chest. It was clear he was shirtless, and I blanched at the thought. Hidan, however, shook all the harder.

"_G – Gah -Dei_" he choked as I laid him down next to his enormous lover.

Deidara, suddenly realizing the urgency of the situation, was suddenly hyper aware of the body next to him. He rolled, with difficulty, and took Hidan into his meaty hands. In a swift movement that I didn't consider possible of his massive body, he was poised between those twitching thighs, carefully removing the thin trousers that covered the obvious bulge.

"Hidan . . ." he sighed, though nobody was sure whether he was conscious or not. Despite needing a couple of valuable extra minutes Deidara couldn't afford to waste any more precious time. It was getting on for 06:27 minutes on my watch now. Time was running out. I turned my back.

"_Uuuhhh" _ he sighed, I assumed, when he was penetrated. So brutally, so quickly. I tried to tune out the sound of the bed creaking and groaning. But without looking behind, I moved for the door and let myself out. Neither of them noticed me go.

The morning was another story. . .

"Kisame, go bring me that Gateaux that's in the fridge"

"It's not opened yet" I mumbled, trying not to look at him. The duvet was only covering his waist and below, and his flabby belly was on sight to the whole world. I found myself briefly wondering what size underwear he wore when the nausea kicked in.

"No? Just bring it . . . and a spoon" he finished, putting a protective arm around his lover next to him. "I'd go myself but if I move I'd wake him"

I could see real honesty in his eyes, but also something else. It was plain he had an eating disorder. But meekly I turned my back and headed for the kitchen.

Half an hour later, his sticky fingers resting on Hidan's bony shoulder, Deidara was almost done. The near empty tray rested on his chunky thighs and the corners of his mouth were covered with chocolate goo. It was obvious he hadn't been hungry from the start . . . just . . . needy.

Even as I pondered these strange thoughts, the sounds of eating were pierced with a light groan.

"Mornin'" Deidara mumbled, shovelling another heaped spoonful of creamy chocolate into his mouth. His hand dropped to massage the ache in his gut.

"Careful!" I cried, nodding purposefully at the half-conscious Hidan. It really didn't take much to set him off these days. It was bad enough Deidara was still eating. We both turned to watch him waking up, after a fit he was usually confused, had no idea where he was and no idea of what happened.

"Arhh" he cried again, clutching in agony at his legs. His face was a mask of pain, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes.

"Wh- Wha?" he managed

"You had a fit in the night" I explained, "One of the worst. I think it was that bed of yours that stopped it from getting any worse"

I didn't want to imagine what state I'd have found him in if that bed didn't have rails.

"D – Dei" he struggled weakly to talk, and I turned, relieved, to see he'd shrugged on a shirt before Hidan could see his body. Every precaution after a fit like that.

"A-aren't you sposed to be losin' weight?" he whispered, spotting the now empty gateaux tray and dirty spoon on the mattress next to him.

"I'm _trying_!" Deidara pleaded, but with a twinkle in his eye that only Hidan picked up on

"No you're not!" Hidan shot back,

"Yeah. But don't tell Kakuzu eh?" he winked back at both of us, and relaxed on the pillows.

There was still something else in his eyes.

Ignoring the strange tweak to Deidara's expression, I focussed my attention back to Hidan who was grunting with pain. He'd spent the night lying next to his lover, and I realized his legs must be hurting him horribly. A night in a normal bed was torture for him, and the excruciating pain was evident on his face.

"I . . . _god it hurts_" he tried. He moved, attempting to get out of the bed and walk back to his own room himself.

"Woa woa, slow down" Deidara burst out, catching him around the waist before gravity took hold. "I'll take him" he offered.

I was grateful for the reprieve. I needed my rest. I walked with him back up the corridor and saw that Hidan was laid back safely into his bed. With a shot of something special straight into the thigh muscle to help him along the way. That'd cure the pain all right I'd wager.

I watched from the hall, saddened as he slipped back under. Into some kind of strange dreamworld that I doubted I'd ever follow him into. I took a few minutes to watch the creases of agony and confusion ease out of his face.

Deidara was the only other one in the room, but as I waited, I heard a whisper.

"I'm . . . _disgusting_" I heard him say quietly.

6 (Pein)

I saw him fall with barely a twinge of regret in my chest. There was nothing left to feel. My stomach was already boiling, twisting and flipping before any of these events unfolded. Whiskey will do that to a man. Instead I sat nearby, while all the worthy people said all the right things at all the right moments. Just like they'd done all their lives. I sat perched on a futon nearby, the ridiculousness of the stupid French chair in an English airport almost being obliterated by the stupidness of me, here, at a time like this.

It was quite clear my friend was dead.

He'd kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, and all the other lovely phrases I'd picked up in the pub with the other wasters. It was one oddly chilly summer night that I was staggering back from there that I stumbled upon Hidan, alone in the dark . . .

There had been a raging argument blasting through the house when I'd left. Kakuzu was shouting, Konan was crying and Hidan just lay on the couch screaming right back. It seemed as if the very bricks and mortar themselves wanted to leave the house when they rowed. But I was often grateful for the distraction because it allowed me to slip out into the night and get thoroughly plastered down the Rose and Crown.

On this strangely wintry June night I sat behind my closed door, preferring not to get involved. Hidan was my friend, but in this state he barely distinguished friend from foe anymore.

"_PLEASE!" he screamed again, pulling himself up from the sweat soaked pillows and imploring Kakuzu to do as he asked._

"_No! You need help Hidan" he stormed, turning around and staring him in the eye_

"_I can't do it myself!" he cried, "I –I'll give you the money . . ."_

"_You don't have any" Kakuzu sneered as he drew closer and leaned over until their faces were inches apart. "You already owe me over a hundred pounds"_

_From my position behind the door I could hear the clever tone in his voice. I knew on other nights he willingly ventured out to pick up Hidan's fix, not caring how much money he spent on his friend. They'd been friends for life, but when it came to arguments like tonight's he took on a whole new role and a new perspective. It confused the hell out of me, and if Hidan had been lucid it would probably have confused him too._

_I caught Deidara's eye from across the room and I could see he wished to be out of the spotlight as much as I did. Clutching his greasy microwave burger he waddled across the faded carpet_

"_I'd get out of here while you can" he whispered before walking through the door, "If Kakuzu doesn't go out then . . ." he left the sentence hanging._

_If Kakuzu didn't go out into the dark and get Hidan what he craved then we were all in for a night of it. Silently I slipped away. _

_Behind me, Hidan's last scream rang in my ears_

"_It's the only way I can cope!" he wailed_

Thinking back through blurry thoughts, I figured the argument had been rather serious. I closed my eyes to better picture the scene I'd probably be stumbling back home to, when a sharp pain struck me in the forehead.

"Whatsat!" I cried, flailing my hands in front of me. A wall had _appeared _in front of me and was now blocking my way home!

"Aargh!" I cursed as an angry dog joined the random wall that was somehow in the middle of the path all of a sudden. I tottered away, neatly tripping over my own feet and landing hard on a terracotta pot which smashed loudly under my back.

"Mmph" I mumbled, the floor was lovely and cool and smelled of moss and earth. I could easily fall asleep here if it weren't for the stubborn terrier trying to steal my trainers. That nuisance was making me angry . . . But I'd sooner stay here with only the mangy dog for company than let myself back into that house. It could either be filled with an awkward silence, the kind that hangs around for days and can never seem to be broken. Or full of shouts and angry voices as the argument raged on after all these hours. The tv would be playing in the background, just talking to itself since no one could be bothered to find a decent reception worth watching, and the clock on the wall would slowly but surely tick away all the wasted hours in between.

I snapped back to the present, and realized the annoying guard dog had gotten bored and wandered away, leaving a coating off slime on the toes of my shoes. Nausea was making it harder for me to find the strength to get up. My head was aching and spinning and I held onto a fence to drag myself unsteadily to my feet. I'd lost all track of time – I could have been on the floor for hours or minutes.

I staggered out of the wrecked garden, only to stumble and fall again onto the moonlight splashed pavement. The stars were out, and the moon sneered down on me, almost scolding me for being trashed for the seventh night in a row. I clambered up and struggled on, stopping to throw up outside a random shop. I figured I'd wandered into the pedestrian zone of town, where you could happily lurch from one side of the street to the other and not get hit by cars. Ahead of me, a plaza opened up, but the water in the central fountain was dirty, black and clogged with fag butts and cans.

If I listened I swore I could hear voices faintly floating over to me from the other side of the square. If the fountain was gushing like it used to, the voices would have been lost on the wind. Carefully I crept closer and was able to pick out three figures, no four! They were wrapped up in the shadows and almost impossible to focus on. As far as I could make out by squinting and tilting my head, three of the taller figures seemed to be standing around the fourth much smaller person.

It didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense to me.

Until I moved slightly to the left, and the severe glare of a streetlight glinted off a wheel, no two wheels. And as the lamp shone it turned his white-blonde hair an angry shade of orange. My stomach churned again, and this time I knew it wasn't the booze. I looked on from my hiding place and watched the group tighten around him, their goading laughs and his shrill voice reached me, but only softly. I couldn't make out any words, but their body language was enough to tell he'd got himself into some serious shit this time.

Over in the dark, Hidan's desperation was being quickly overshadowed by fear. He'd come out, alone, to visit the guy down the road for his fix. He had no money but had sneaked a necklace out of Konan's jewellery box that looked expensive, and shoved it hastily through the letterbox of the drug den that masqueraded as a house. He hadn't got much in return

_A tiny bag, one so light as to be nearly weightless was dumped in his hand, and stern unseen voices had told him to 'fuck orf!' He'd left the property as quickly, but far less easily than he came. The cumbersome wheelchair stuck in all the ruts and potholes in the pavement. And he barely had enough strength left in his body as it was. The terrible thirst was on him again, and all his thought was bent on it. His will was being gradually sapped by the mere presence of the bag in his tightly fisted hand, and he realized he couldn't make it back to the flat without it. The lifts would have been shut down by now, and there was no way he was getting up 6 flights of stairs alone._

_Resignedly, he retreated into the shadows in an unfamiliar part of town, one where he hoped no one would have reason to go. He wanted peace, just peace and relief. He hadn't planned on resorting to this and all his gear was back at the flat, in that smooth wooden box pushed under the couch. He yearned for it, this way wasn't nearly as good. He pulled out the small clear plastic bag, and within sat the tiny amount of brown crumbly powder he so desperately craved. Taking a large pinch, he held it close to his nostril, and then hastily snorted it back. It stung like hell, then his nose gradually turned as numb as his legs. He held his breath and waited, just waited until a sweet wave of euphoria seeped into his brain like honey, and made his chest feel all golden. _

"_Ahh-" he sighed. It wasn't the hard hitting mind stopping fix he wanted. But it would hold back the itching and sickness until Kakuzu could score for him tomorrow. He sat, slumped alone in the darkness as cold air swirled around his lifeless feet. His head lolled gently on his chest as he slipped in and out of unconsciousness. He had no sense of time passing, and it was a set of angry footsteps that woke him – not the rising of the morning sun._

"Oi – you" one burst out, nearly breaking into a run. He was at the front of the group and mere feet from Hidan's crippled body.

"That's him!" another burst out, his skin head shone bright against the light of a cheap phone in his hand. He quickly sidestepped his friend, and slid in behind, beginning to form a tight circle of menace.

The last man in line slowly sauntered up to the group. He was the tallest by about a head, and his hollow eyes bore down into the man's below him.

"That necklace you sold us . . ." he began in hushed tones, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and slowly crouching until his face was level with Hidan's. "It was a _fake!_" He spat the last word like a curse, and smiled a malevolent knowing smile.

Hidan sat, scared. His eyes were wide and staring, and the urge to run was building inside. The fix that had so briefly swept him away had left, leaving only chills and cramps in its place. He watched nervously as the first man stepped forwards.

"No offence mate, but you gonna have to pay for that" he drawled, nodding at the empty bag in Hidan's lap. "Sorry, but the only . . . payment method . . . we accept-"

"-Is pain!" the other thug finished for him, and spittle flew out from behind his stained teeth.

He slung the cheap metal necklace into the smaller man's face then followed it up instantly with a stinging backhand; it was at this point I realized it. Someone was using knuckle dusters.

In the time between me leaping up from my hiding place, and staggering across the square they'd begun a professional hammering. His body was on the floor, someone was holding his head, and briefly I saw the glint of a golf club. My feet wouldn't go any faster, and my head was spinning in dizzying circles. Twice I found myself stumbling, and twice I picked myself up.

I'd cleared half the distance now and his screams were clearer, I could hear him choking as he coughed up blood. But the soft thump of fist on flesh was harsher still. He lay prone on the cobbles while the three men laid into him as if he were a doll. I screamed then, my own slurred voice adding to the pandemonium. I waved my phone and shouted something about cops, and slowly they picked themselves up and slouched away. They acted too cool to show fear, but neither did they call my bluff. I guess no one likes a jail cell.

As soon as they were out of sight, I rushed to Hidan's side. He couldn't stop shaking, and blood poured out of a wound on his head, and slid out of his mouth as he choked. His legs had been attacked first and the bruises reached from hip to toe. Someone had landed a punch in his stomach, and his lip was split from another flailing fist. His eyes were dull and tearful, but in them shone a growing acceptance of this mindless violence.

"Hidan – why . . .?" I began

"I . . ." he stuttered. Staring at me in confusuion. His eyes roved over my face without showing a hint of recognition. He was dazed and bewildered, lying broken on the ground at my feet.

"Hidan!" I repeated, and his eyes squinted up, he was obviously trying to pay more attention to me.

"It's hard . . . you can't imagine how hard . . . for me . . . to-" he started, but I shushed him.

His wheelchair had been overturned and thrown to the side and carefully I retrieved it. Mainly hanging on it to keep myself upright I pushed it back and looked once more at his pathetic body lying vulnerable on the floor.

"Are you . . . crying?" I asked, sounding appalled.

He ignored me completely and tried to lift himself into a sitting position. He was panting for breath, and clutching at his legs in agony.

"Come here" I offered, and held out a hand to him. He stared at it for a long moment, as if he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do with it. A few heartbeats later my drink-fuzzed mind got to work on the problem and I slid an arm round his shoulders to help him back into his chair. I've never seen such effort in someone's face before. It took everything he had and more. His knees were shaking and he hung limp in my arms. His head must have been spinning with the loss of blood. I could see it pooling on the cobbles, the macabre glisten making my stomach turn again and again.

If I'd have taken another route home, he could have been lying here cold and dying. I held his frail body to me tightly, feeling his hot breaths on my neck, before gently setting him down.

He didn't seem to relax and his ragged breathing didn't get any easier. He was visibly shaking – from the shock or the chill? I took a deep breath to settle my stomach and tried not to look at the splatters of blood on the cracked pavestones. Slowly I began to walk, pushing him ahead of me.

We didn't get far.

"S-stop!" he cried. I saw the whiteness of his knuckles as he clung to the arms of his chair.

I was flying blind, I couldn't see his face or the way his teeth ground together. I couldn't guess what was the matter. If I'd have seen, I would have watched his eyes close lightly, and a pained expression of relief coupled with failure cross his pale face.

"A- Ahh!" he grunted. He suddenly blushed with shame. It took me a minute of incomprehension to realize what had happened.

"I – Pein – I'm sorry" he finished lamely.

I stood, shocked. My heart really went out to him this time. It seemed that _that _was the only way his tormented body knew how to respond. His hot laboured breaths fogged the air in front of us as I slowly began to walk again. Nothing was getting through to my brain tonight (it could have been all those double measures of rum I'd downed) but I could see the humiliation etched on his face like it was carved into stone.

It seemed he was gradually calming down now and for that I was grateful.

"I need . . . Deidara" he whispered weakly and I nodded despite the fact that he couldn't see my face. With a heavy heart I called ahead to let them know.

The night seemed to be coming to a close, showing to us that it wasn't endless after all. The defiant dawn was already spreading its tendrils of gold over the stricken city. Some of them were trailing over the window of this forsaken place, turning the glazed white panes to yellow and warming the glass. Some of them were even reaching inside, and touching his face as he lay as if in slumber.

Kakuzu sat near the bedside, cradling his best friend's head in his shaking hands and praying for this night not to end. While the others could mope and cry to their hearts content, his mind was working on overdrive. He couldn't let this all slip.

With every minute he allowed the sun to climb higher in the sky, their situation was getting worse. No matter what anyone said, they had a corpse on the bed with enough heroin in his blood to knock out a horse. Forgiving the irony.

He knew they had to move, but rousing his grieving friends was going to be trouble. Half of them had left the room. He couldn't have them wandering back here, when the authorities and media were all over the hotel like insects. No. And what were they going to do with . . . with Hidan?

He met with each of their swollen puffy red eyes to confirm it, and every one of those glassy black pupils registered the truth. They were going to have to leave him here, in this sterilized and hollow place. Alone and barely even cold.

Stifling a sob, Kakuzu stumbled to his feet to look down on his closest friend one last time. He straightened that crumpled shirt, brushed Hidan's hair back neatly and crossed his hands loosely over his chest. Nothing was around to respectfully cover his face, but his expression was so peaceful and content it hardly mattered. He looked like a man asleep. And, Kakuzu thought glumly, that might buy them some time.

It was so light now that it wasn't even worth turning the porcelain lamps on. Full grey light blistered through the curtains and hurt his stinging eyes as he gathered up the last of their muddled possessions. He straightened to retrieve Zetsu's fashionable Miu Miu jacket and noticed that everyone in the room was suddenly on their feet. Paying their last respects, it was a moving sight.

The shuffle of their shoes barely broke the silence however, as one by one they retreated. Leaving the door to click firmly shut behind their backs.

_Unfortunately . . . to be continued._

_AHA Thanks to Jimmy and Charlotte the only two people that have made it to the end of this story. Sometimes I wonder why I bother_


	12. Terminal Three

Terminal Three

We found him in the hotel bar.

The dim and musky room was filled with smoke, despite the new no-smoking policy that had the country in its vice-like grip. I peered through the musky darkness, searching for the flaming orange hair I knew was in here somewhere.

The clink of glasses and burble of terrible out-dated piped music accompanied the dull roar of conversation. Punters sat to the left and right at low wooden tables, each stained with a different variety of alcohol. I sniffed, the air smelt simultaneously of expensive air fresheners and sick.

The stench even put me off my food.

I walked slowly across the carpet, trying to ignore the ominous crunching underfoot. I stepped carefully, trying so hard to keep my dignity even though I knew I wouldn't make it out of here without at least buying a few packets of chips and nuts. My walk turned into a waddle as my concentration slipped, and I could hear the laughter breaking out behind me. Whether they were laughing at me I couldn't tell, but in my heart I felt sure of it. Who wouldn't feel the urge to laugh at my expense?

I pulled up just short of the bar, trying hold back the urge at least until I'd sunk into the seat next to Pein and seen how bad he was. Right now he sat at the bar, with a shot glass in his hand and a lot more piled up on the bar beside him. As I watched he raised a bottle to his mouth, then further, and further up. Horrified, I looked on as he pushed the thing to his eye socket and tipped it back, hissing in pain.

Other drinkers were turning round and staring, and a few of the more adventurous ones were trying the move themselves, and spilling drink down string vests and stained shirts. By the time I'd reached his side, he'd downed another couple of shots, and pressed the bottle a few more times tightly to his open eye. A stink of alcohol hung around him like always, except this time it was stronger than usual. It hit me like a smack in the face and I almost recoiled in disgust.

The conversation in the room grew louder now, as people stopped staring at us and went back to their drinks. I figured it was safe to speak without being overheard, so I began by meeting his puffy red eyes. I was amazed he could still see, they were so blood shot, the whites had turned red and even the skin around them was agitated and sore.

"whaa' ya wan'" he slurred, with his head down, and his fist clenched around an unopened bottle of beer,

"Pein, we have to go" I murmured. At the end of the day it wasn't fair. Why did I have to be strong, supportive, and emotionless? I felt like breaking down and sinking to the dirty frayed carpet on my knees. My tears could easily fill one of those shot glasses and yet here I was playing mother to this drunken waster. No one knew Hidan better than me, and even as we left the hotel this morning, I hadn't shed a tear. I knew what was to come though, I had a few hours, then it would all break out of me.

Gently I tugged him from the bar stool, taking him under the arms as he tripped and stumbled. He was swaying and moaning quietly with a mixture of grief and sickness, yet I couldn't see a single tear on his face. I had to get him out of the bar and onto that plane, and yet my heart was screaming at me to leave his ass here.

Was he crying crocodile tears? Or was he generally upset over the departure of a friend? I think, and I knew it to be true, that what we were all grieving over, really, was the man Hidan used to be. Not the man he had become, the man who had just passed away, upstairs on the unfamiliar bed. The guilt of that thought, more than anything else, was a burden almost unbearable to bear.

We stumbled out of the gloom together, leaving the muggy smokey interior of the bar behind us. Stopping only once for Pein to throw up in a potted plant, which stole my attention just long enough for me to lurch past the snacks without pulling out my wallet. Yet even as we passed into the bright sunlit plaza ("Gah! God my eyes!" Pein had screamed) the craving was still gnawing away inside me. I hadn't eaten for . . . how many hours had crawled by? I didn't even know. My senses seemed extra sharp now. I could smell a doughnut stall across the other side of the airport, or a packet of crisps from 40 feet. My concentration was slipping too, and I was forcibly reminded of that one time Kakuzu tried to get me to diet.

I'd only managed to drop a few pounds when I'd realized something. The longer I spent without snacking, the more severe an episode of bingeing would be. It was uncontrollable and the guilt of it swamped me every time I tried to meet someone's eyes. Needless to say, any weight I'd lost was piled back on mere days after I gave up. Kakuzu had been on my case ever since.

The plaza opened up in front of me, shining white and sparkling clean. High above, clouds floated in the summer sky, carefree and puffy like pillows. I could see them through the arching glass roof, supported by tiny lightweight metal bracers.

I had a feeling Hidan would be seeing them somewhat closer.

Thinking that name again made my heart sag and my feet drag along the tiled floor. Around me, once smiling faces were now sombre with grief. All except Zetsu, he looked upbeat and professional as always. Something inside me stirred, maybe he was _glad _to see Hidan pass away? I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes and watched his expression carefully. His face was composed, but his eyes betrayed him. I saw worry there, and concern. His pupils were roving from side to side as if he was looking for someone . . . but who?

I pushed the thought out of my head, and shifted Pein to my other arm. I was sweating like a paedophile in a playground, and the extra weight of carrying him was giving me a worse back ache than normal. God. I clutched at my spine with my spare hand, I was used to this pain and I'd noticed it getting worse with every extra pound I put on. Yet somehow it didn't seem to stop me.

No one came forward to help me as Pein bent forward again and threw up in an ornamental rock garden. His stomach was heaving up, and it made mine churn and flip about. His eyes were closed and I could tell his head was spinning; he was all weak at the knees and grinning stupidly. Christ, I was growing tired of this, and on a compulsion dumped him in an airport wheelchair – those ones with the big poles welded on so you can't steal them. There. That was better . . . lighter . . . that was . . . oh.

The sudden void opened up inside me like something out of a science fiction film. It seemed bottomless, endless and so horribly cold. I stood stunned and shocked as the group moved off without me, not noticing that I'd fallen behind. I didn't, couldn't move, I was rooted to the floor, surrendering to the grief that had finally caught me up.

Apart from the hair colour and a slight height difference, Pein was the spitting image of our late best friend. His eyes stared, unfocused and bloodshot – just the same, the aura of sickness was the same. And the almost maternal instinct that rose within me upon sight of his pathetic body, was, more or less the same. The bile rose up my throat at the same time as a wail of sorrow and I coughed and choked. My eyes watered and I struggled to breathe. I couldn't take this _place_ anymore. This pristine shiny white airport all made of marble, glass and water features, shining like the heaven I imagined Hidan had found his way to. The same heaven the bearded wasters down at the chapel would have you believe existed. And if it didn't exist . . . what then? Where had my Hidan gone to . . . my Hidan . . .

I couldn't take this any longer.

I contemplated leaving Pein where he was, lolling about in the chair, but I figured he'd just go back to the bar. Yet the trial of actually pushing him was proving more than I could bear. I imagined myself taking those two handles and pushing him, hearing the wheels squeak on the polished floor, seeing his ruffled hair when I looked down every now and then to check he was ok. No. I physically couldn't do it.

"It's ok Deidara" a low, kind voice murmured behind me. It made me jump and nearly cry out in fright.

I turned to see who had spoken, and met the stony grey eyes of Kakuzu. He was looking at me with concern, and I realized I must look a state. My eyes were wild with confusion and grief and I was mildly surprised to see my hands were sweating too. The stress and pain of the day so far were urging me to eat, to stuff my face and bury the sadness beneath the weight of another snack. But I wouldn't let myself! Not in front of Kakuzu of all people, not when I had to be strong. The tension of denying myself food had been building steadily since I woke up, making me restless and tetchy. Kakuzu knew what I was feeling, he could tell by the way I couldn't keep my hands still, they had to be pulling or fidgeting with something, he could tell by the beads of sweat on my forehead and my sudden change of attitude. I gave Pein one last bewildered look, then walked away as fast as my feet would carry me.

The others were across the terminal, in the queue of the restaurant, waiting for breakfast. It bothered me to know there'd be people watching me eating this time. Not just my friends but strangers too. I glanced up to the glowing neon sign hanging precariously above the restaurant's counter. It hung, glaring down on me as if with bright yellow eyes, while workers beneath rushed about with a matching M on their hats.

"Oh god" I moaned.

"Dei! Over here" Konan waved, seeming rather brighter since Kisame had left her to go order. My face flushed bright red, and from the other side of the seating area I tried to shush her.

"_Don't say my name here!" _I hissed when I'd fought my way closer. The mass of plastic tables and chairs proved to be an obstacle course for a man of my size.

"Why's that?" she asked curiously,

"-cos Deidara has a secret he don't tell most people" Kisame butted in, arriving at her side with cups of tea.

"Oh yeah? What's that then" she smiled

"Cos he once got fired from a mac Donalds" Kisame said in a loud stage-whisper

"What reason did they have to fire you?" Zetsu chipped in despite himself

I could tell everyone was listening now, I could tell even Kakuzu had an ear tuned to our conversation now he'd reached the table. But the worst was not yet over. I buried my head in my hands.

"They fired his fat ass cos he was caught sneaking food. 5 Big macs weren't it Dei?" he smiled nastily and my face burned

"It was a stressful job" I whispered. But no one heard me. They were too busy laughing.

"Hidan never cared." I mumbled to myself, minutes later when I assumed no one was listening. But Zetsu caught me out – he heard my soft voice in the dull roar of noise.

"Don't mention that name here, it will sour the food!" he remarked pompously. I could have hit him. I didn't want to sit and wait here a second longer, or watch as they tucked into breakfast bagels and muffins. My stomach and mind had been screaming at me all morning, but instead of ignoring them both, I decided it was time to break.

My chair scraped as I jumped to my feet and strode off. I made sure to spend every last penny of my English money, it would be useless where we were going. Brightly coloured air hostesses scooted past in heels and scarves, drawing all the attention away from me as I waddled purposefully into a Tesco Express.

The smell of cooking dough and cheese from next door's pizza restaurant made my tummy grumble worse than before. But I didn't have any time for sit-down restaurant dinners; we needed to be at check- in NOW. I clutched my money with determination. I was still going to have everything. Everything I wanted.

I was pretty sure the staff recognised me from yesterday, when me and Pein had come in here together. Yesterday . . . Hidan had been waiting outside. I spun around quickly, nearly knocking racks of crisps from the shelves, convinced I would see his pale face staring back at me from just outside those doors. But there was no one there, just some old granny, scared by the authorities into believing I was a terrorist or a yob out to steal her purse.

I sighed, and began grabbing everything from the shelves. A couple of giant bags of crisps, a handful of chocolate bars, three heavy bottles of milkshake, quite a few packets of sandwiches, some bags of peanuts . . . How much was this going to come to? The check out girl rushed about, scanning everything through, while I sat strangling with my grief and shame. As she stared, I grabbed a tray of stodgy muffins off the side for good measure, and whacked them on the till as well.

It wasn't long before I was struggling back to the others, who'd barely finished their meal. Kakuzu was handing out tickets to everyone grimly, as if he felt a physical pain by giving money to others. He shoved mine roughly into my pudgy hand, glaring at my bulging bag and probably still thinking about those extra few pounds he'd had to pay for me. The tinny voice of the P/A crackled out above the whole scene, commanding us to go where we were meant to. I wondered how long how long we'd have to stand in line to get through security and check in.

"WHaa? Take off my shoesh?" Pein slurred, "Why?"

I had to admit it was a good question. But the security guard, all togged up in a shiny new uniform didn't look amused.

"It's to stop terrorism" He announced, self-importantly.

"What, cos terrorists are afraid of taking their shoes off?" I joked badly, and only Pein laughed. He was the only one that did, but so far he was slipping under their radars. Kakuzu imagined we'd have a hell of a lot of trouble getting him through customs in this state. But most people had just looked away - that was the embarrassing truth about the English public.

They took one look as we walked by, saw his crappy clothes with sick stains down the front, and the wheelchair he'd been slung in. Then they looked away, conforming to the stereotypical belief that this is what the mentally ill look like. They glanced away in respect or disgust, or purely because they couldn't face the thought, and we slipped easily through the barriers. It was the same with Hidan. He could be as high as a kite and no one would bother looking long enough to notice. All they took in was the glazed eyes and the unmoving body, then filed him neatly away as "one of those _special people_"

Not that I was complaining. We'd be sitting in an airport lounge all night if they knew how much alcohol was in Pein's system right now. They had rules about that kind of thing now, I guessed it was to stop fights and the like. But it didn't look to me like Pein was going anywhere fast. If we were lucky he'd just pass out soon, and by the time he woke up we'd be gone. We were already on our way, walking fast into a big grey nowhere. The airport corridors seemed to swallow us up as we walked further and further into the belly of the beast. Endless signs and doors and corridors opened up on either side, and I was glad Kakuzu knew where he was going, because I didn't have a clue. The only two things on my mind were 1) not looking at Pein – the hurt it caused was too red and raw. And 2) concentrating on that bag in my hand, it seemed to be growing heavier and heavier – tempting me to start the festivities early.

Not long now, not long now, I kept saying to myself over and over in my head. Anything to take my mind off the hunger. I couldn't let my mind slip, or my self control would slip too. I'd flip out and scoff the entire lot, right here on this strange people-conveyor belt we were standing on. The muffins would be chocolaty and soft, and the crisps would be salty and crunchy. Ah. I was in the middle of one such daydream, when I noticed our group had stopped. Dead.

The tiles seemed to stretch on forever, right on up to the boarding gates on both sides, and flush to the great windows. I looked out and could see the runway on my left and the stand on my right where all the planes were parked. Then I looked ahead. Blinked and looked again.

Three young men walked towards us, taking up most of the space in the wide airy corridor if not with their bodies than with their egos. They reminded me of Zetsu. All three of them. Their coats looked expensive, their hands and nails were well manicured. Even their walk radiated wealth and supremacy, I felt unworthy even to breathe the same air. That fact was confirmed when they swept their eyes over me and my cheapo bag of junk food. Baffled, I looked to the others for help.

"S-Sasori" Zetsu stammered at the redhead in the middle with the particularly fine suitcase. He simply sneered back.

"What a handsome day to make acquaintances again" he said, beautifully, every word clipped and pronounced perfectly.

"Of course" Zetsu inclined his head in respect, a gesture so well practised it looked like he'd done it a thousand times before. The pair shook hands, ignoring the rest of us like we were part of the furniture.

"Prague is simply captivating this time of year" he began, his eyes sparkling.

"Quite true" Zetsu scoffed, and I was taken aback by the change in his tone, "I do prefer Rome though, it's particularly fine in the spring"

What the hell? He'd never even been to Italy! None of us had even left the country and here he was speaking like a seasoned traveller. I realized Sasori was was returning from his holidays, laden down with shopping presents no doubt for mama and papa. And Zetsu was trying to outdo him, playing his game again.

"Have you thought about going to the spring ball when term starts?" Sasori asked, eyeing Zetsu for a reaction

"I did yes, I was planning to wear the tweed suit from Williams and Brown, maybe without the cravat" he simpered, "though have you not considered the amount of riff raff that will turn out?"

From the approving grin on Sasori's face I could tell he'd just passed the test.

"Good show" he chuckled

I stifled a laugh, what centaury did he think he was in? It seemed weird to laugh, especially after what had happened, but my mind was depraved. Starved of my cravings, and stressed to the point of meltdown, I'd laugh at anything right now. He didn't appear to find it funny.

"And who might you be?" he turned and stared me up and down, and I instantly regretted my mistake.

"D- Deidara" I managed, "I'm Zetsu's friend, we live on the estate together"

"Really." He sniffed and turned back to Zetsu with a curious look in his eye. He smiled an enviously perfect half-smile, "Zetsu, I thought you lived with your papa in Vienna?"

He gulped and paled visibly and the horrible truth dawned slowly. I met Kakuzu's eyes and saw that the same feelings were reflected in his expression. Anger and hurt were the clearest to be seen.

"Gotcha hillbilly" Pein giggled, reading the words off a bright advertisement for a DVD nearby. I smiled inside, knowing the words to be oddly true. Zetsu was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish out of water. He'd told these snobs all kinds of tales, and spun them all kinds of yarns. And now unfortunately, the castle he'd so carefully built had come crashing down.

"Those aristocrats and family you were spending the winter holidays with . . ." Sasori began, "are actually a spastic, a whore, a wannabe business man, an escaped prisoner-"

"Hey-" Kisame began, but Sasori quickly silenced him

"Darling, your picture is all over the news, you could at least have done something with your clothes" he sneered. Then his gaze moved to me.

"And you stole a poor hippopotamus from the zoo on the way here" he tutted in mock disapproval while flaming red colour rose to my cheeks and my eyes burned with tears.

Kakuzu made to step forward, but the two other well-dressed men to Sasori's sides stepped in closely.

"I don't think so, do you?" he sighed, "_my_ papa won't let me travel without an escort"

He took one last disapproving look around our group, and dusted off his hands though he'd never even touched anything. Then again, he was the kind of man that made you feel dirty and ungainly just by being in his presence.

"You make a mockery of me" he spat, the polished and polite exterior suddenly gone. His eyes were dark with betrayal. Were those tears on his lashes?

He looked over our group again, his eyes snapped between us, taking in most details to file away in his vast memory. He scanned over Konan's tiny miniskirt and cleavage -bearing pink top, Kakuzu's imitation Rolex and Zetsu's real one, then my elephant sized jeans and saggy t shirt. His eyes swept across Kisame's unshaven face – still rough from prison and Pein, drowned in alcohol as he had been every day since as long as I can remember.

Satisfied with his inspection of us, he looked up and met Zetsu's eyes sadly.

"The whole time" he sighed. It was the kind of sigh that made you feel dead inside. Like when a naughty child misbehaves and looks to the adult, fearing punishment and waiting for the blow to fall, and in the end all the parent says is . . . . _I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed_.

"See you at University" he whispered in quiet anger, before sauntering away with a charismatic sniff. His polished black Italian boots clicked as he walked, and his cashmere coat swung one last time as he turned the corner in the corridor and was gone from view.

I knew by the look in Zetsu's face that his world had just fallen apart. He could never go back to that place now, so his career in medicine was all but over.

I realized that had this encounter not occurred, he wouldn't have boarded this plane with us, he was going to watch us all get on, then disappear into the crowd. He meant to leave us forever for a lie he'd created in the space of a few months.

Misery afresh descended on me like a fog. My hands clenched into fists, _god,_ the urge was so strong now. I resisted the temptation to start the party early, struggled the few metres to the boarding gate in a daze, then handed my passport to the smiling air hostess. I could not come to terms with Zetsu's betrayal, it was too much to cope with. Too much had happened in too short a time and my brain couldn't deal with another thing today, though it was only about 11 o clock in the morning. I briefly lifted my chin, so the lady could match my face to the grumpy (if slimmer) face on my passport, then dropped it again in despair. I noticed the woman was dressed to the nines, wearing high heels like stilts, and so much make up it was a wonder her whole face didn't slide off when it got warm. She looked like a clown. But her insane smile was enough to keep her occupied, and not notice the family size picnic I had behind my back.

Quietly I took my passport back and shoved it into my pocket, accidently brushing my bag on the way down and wincing with impatience. I shuffled to the side, and waited for the others. Spotting a small uncomfortable looking row of chairs, I sank into one gratefully and watched as the others did the same. My hand reached slowly down into the bag; as if cautious I might realize what it was doing. I'd had enough of waiting, now was my chance while people were distracted.

"Excuse me sirs, but you can't wait there" She simpered

"Why not?" he asked, baffled

"I'm sorry, special needs passengers have to board first" she said sheepishly, blushing and looking and Pein, who grinned drunkenly back.

"Great." I muttered, wondering how much longer I could afford to hang on. It was getting difficult. Stupidly so. Special needs indeed, the idiot in the chair was just drunk, wasted, bladdered, whatever you wanted to call it. He was no more special than me or Kakuzu, but rise we did, simply to keep up the facade. 'Normal' people took the seats behind us, dressed in 'I heart London' T-shirts, carrying bags of crappy souvenirs. I hated the way they looked down on me, I was standing up, quite a few feet above their eyes, but the meanings behind their gazes were far more metaphorical. They assumed, I imagine, that I was a lazy bastard . . . possibly a greedy bastard to boot. Both of the above were probably true (I winced at my own honesty) but for me, things ran deeper than that. And as for these smirking, sarcastic tourists, their superficial glances would never get to the bottom of it.

"PRM's prepare for boarding" another painted beauty chirped, herding us all down the grey tunnel they called an 'airbridge'. The ceiling was grey, the floor was grey, and the view outside the teeny tiny windows was, in fact, grey. The thin carpet masked the squeaking of the wheels on the chair they were shoving Pein in, and for a few minutes I was able to forget about him. Today was turning out to be a cruel parody of the day before, and I wished he'd get his drunken arse up and at least stagger to his seat. It was tearing me up inside. _"Keep calm, not long now"_ I had to keep whispering to myself, and I squeezed the bag handle again for comfort.

Ahead of me, my piggy eyes took in the shining white aircraft fuselage and the giant door opening up like a mouth before me. Before I knew what was happening I'd passed through it and was confronted by that distinctive 'plane smell' – a nasty mixture of stale food and old socks. Behind me, Konan was sorting through all her non-smoking paraphernalia. She'd got a patch for this and a patch for that, and some kind of fake fag you didn't even light. It baffled me utterly. I was so busy looking at her I crashed into the side of a seat, some numb fuck had left the armrest up!

"Ouch!" I yelped and twisted round to see it, then another jabbed right into my podgy hip. My god was the aisle getting thinner?

"Mind out Dei, we'd like to get there in once piece" Pein muttered darkly, and I could tell he was sobering up. The bastard. Swallowing my pride, I searched for a decent seat, preferably with a bit of space. I'd hoped to get a seat with a nice lot of leg room, and somewhere to put my stuff, but my hopes were about to be dashed by the beautiful women in charge.

"Sorry sir you can't sit there" she whispered loudly when I sunk into the first seat I came to. "This is an emergency exit row, I'm sorry but we have regulations . . . um . . . _oversize_ passengers . . . can't . . ."

Oh I got it.

Konan and Pein were hoisted up and moved as well, her for being pregnant and him for being so wasted they thought he was brain damaged. We ended up hunched like schoolchildren on a coach trip on the rows behind. My knees were crashing on the backs of the seat in front, and if Pein was sick there was nowhere for it to go. I was mortified to be taking up no less than two seats. The armrest between the two was pushed up, and I sat astride them both. Turns out that was why Kakuzu was so annoyed, buying a whole other seat for me didn't seem to have gone down too well for him. He glowered at me from across the aisle with his dark eyes and tight lips. I shrank away, and after a while, his attention was diverted elsewhere as the airhostess's famous demo began.

I began to relax as finally I was out of the limelight and sinking into this strange black leather seat. The stunning uniformed women were fluttering and pointing, drawing all eyes both male and female further away from me. I checked my watch. It was time.

I took a deep breath and searched through my bag, then ripped open the first packet I came to and stuffed its contents into my mouth. I think it might have been a muffin, I didn't care, I didn't barely even chew. Next to me, Zetsu winced in disgust, but I didn't pay him much heed, the next packet was already in my hands. Crisps scratched and cut my mouth as I wolfed them down too fast, and the unchewed food stuck in my throat, threatening to make me retch. The demo in front of me was coming to an end, and I felt the plane jerk from its stand, but I didn't consider slowing, never mind slopping. Handfuls of peanuts chased the doughy muffins down into my stomach, washed down nicely with the thickest milkshake I'd ever tasted. My eyes were focussed on the crappy in-flight magazine, or the safety card stuck to the seat in front, or the other passengers. I distracted myself from what I was doing, even reading some article about Bulgaria just to take my mind off it. I looked to my left and right, from here I could see Kakuzu's seat, and the reluctant understanding etched on his face. Maybe I had someone on my side after all.

I'd just torn open a plastic sandwich box, and crammed the tasteless cheese and tomato thing into my mouth, when another impossibly beautiful girl edged by. I was well aware that my hips stuck out into the aisle, and my meaty shoulders too. I didn't need her to point it out again.

"Excuse me _sir_" she quavered, evidently unsure how to handle the situation. "This armrest must be down for takeoff"

I gaped at her; up close she was no prettier than an ordinary girl. The ethereal, magical quality to her was scraped away, like so many layers of foundation. It took me a couple of extra seconds to process her words, and by that time the cheese sandwich was slipping sadly down my throat and I could speak.

"I . . . I don't think that's . . ." I waffled, knowing that pulling down the armrest would make it dig painfully into my bulging stomach.

"Sorry sir" she simpered again, and wrenched the thing down, pinning me like a butterfly in a scrapbook. "You also do need to fasten your seatbelt"

In pain, with my eyes watering from shame, I reached for the two ends of the belt, extended them to the full length and dragged them over my sagging belly. I pulled again, then yanked at it. To my horror the seatbelt wouldn't do up.

_Oh god_. I said quietly to myself, far too embarrassed now to even meet this girl's eyes. She sensed my awkwardness and disappeared, returning silently with the inevitable extension seatbelt. Without speaking, she showed me to clip one end into the left side of the belt, and clip the other half into the right. It left a big orange stripe stretching across my bulk, indicating to all and sundry that the man in seat 18 C was a pig.

I slumped, tired and ashamed. There was no point sitting up straight, holding my breath or trying to make myself look skinny. The concept was laughable. Everyone was staring at me, children and teens were craning their necks, trying to get a better look. I heard a couple of rude comments, something along the lines of 'everybody sit on the right to even out the weight' or 'should've charged him for extra petrol just so we can get off the ground' The comments, though painful, were nothing new to me. It was water off a duck's back now, so without another wasted thought, I turned my memories to Hidan, and once again dived into my bag.

I felt the takeoff rather than saw it, my eyes were closed, thinking only of the past – of the one I had lost. I didn't spare a moment for the future now. My hand still dipped in and out of the bag – a beef sandwich on taxiing, a blueberry muffin as we got airborne, then some more crisps - salty and delicious. I could imagine people getting bored with staring now, but still my eyelids remained closed, and I smacked my lips and searched around blindly. I felt my body jiggle and lurch about as we hit a rough patch of turbulence, my belly wobbled and I fought to keep my T shirt from riding up. I almost smiled, imagining the effect this would have had on Hidan . . . if . . . if . . .

"Dei. Stop." I heard a voice close to my ear, and realized I'd just stepped up the pace. My hands were racing and my jaw was aching and stiff. I didn't even know what I was eating anymore, something was there and it tasted good. It could have been a chocolate bar, or maybe I'd stuffed in a sandwich at the same time. My teeth worked away and I swallowed, that was all there was.

"Deidara. Stop this" he said again, but I wouldn't, couldn't open my eyes. Something salty trickled down into my mouth, and I realized it wasn't the peanuts – I was crying. My mouth was all out of sync, my lips didn't seem to want to obey and I swallowed heavily.

I panted for breath, and clutched at my chest as a sob shook me. I had indigestion and my stomach hurt, but even the pain and the tears would not make me open my eyes. I shivered slightly as a cool breeze stroked the side of my face, and I cursed the last passenger for leaving the air con on. Silence reigned, and in a last ditch attempt to satisfy my cravings I reached for another chocolate bar and began to unwrap it. It was difficult _not_ to do it; I was being manipulated and controlled by something, some defect inside me, some rotten core.

At first I heard nothing but the sound of my own chomping and swallowing, but slowly, the comforting words being whispered into my ear became louder, words of tranquillity and protection. The voice – Kakuzu's voice I assumed whispered gently, his words making everything ok. Then as I listened, the tone changed and became warmer, my breathing slowed to better hear the faint voice. He spoke sweet nothings, words that both calmed my soul yet sped my pulse. This was not Kakuzu speaking to me; this man spoke as if to a lover, the way I used to speak to-

"HIDAN!" I screamed and opened my eyes.

And stared blankly at the seat in front. I whirled around, looking at the people in the seats behind. They looked up from their magazines, startled by my round tear stained face. I was checking under the seat, glaring down the aisles. I whipped back and glared at Zetsu to my left. He was gazing out of the window as clouds raced by underneath us.

"Stop it Zetsu, it's not funny" I growled. And he turned to stare at me. His eyes were innocent, and he opened his mouth to say as much, but Kakuzu interrupted,

"Dei – are you ok?" he murmured softly, but his voice was totally different to the one I heard. He couldn't have reached over from the aisle to whisper into my ear, it wasn't possible.

But. . .

"There was someone . . ." I muttered, almost incoherently, waving my hand in the air to indicate the voice I heard. People stared at me quizzically, raising eyebrows, and I mumbled into silence. I knew what I heard. And I didn't want anyone to think I was losing it. I didn't want to let myself believe I was anything less than sane. I slumped back into my seat, kicking the empty bag and sticky wrappers away. Everything was gone, I'd eaten it all but something still nagged at me. I tried to distract myself with the in flight movie, but it was some chick flick involving brides and handbags and handsome young men. Not really my bag. Kakuzu kept glancing my way, I could see his worried eyes out of the corner of my own, but I made no move to speak to him. I wanted to be left alone, to contemplate that voice and reminisce on the past, maybe sleep.

I took one look around our dilapidated group, saw that Zetsu looked depressed and sad, possibly even ashamed of his actions. His eyes were dry but he stared firmly into his lap, as if he was afraid to meet anyone's gaze by accident. I could understand that, I for one had been extremely hurt by what he'd almost done.

Kisame, sitting in the middle of the row next to mine, was trying to hide his face from everyone that walked by. He'd tried reading a really big newspaper or simply hiding behind Kakuzu, but he was too tetchy and nervous to sit still. Sasori's words had shaken him, and he seemed to be taking it out on his girlfriend. Konan had the window seat, not through any preference of her own, but purely because Kisame could keep an eye on her this way. His hand rested firmly on her leg, and hadn't moved during the entire flight except to slip higher up her skirt whenever another man walked by. She wasn't brave enough to object, and was too afraid to protest.

Next to them sat Kakuzu, worried and strained so much that his face was ghostly white, or maybe he was just afraid of flying. He kept checking his watch, possibly counting down the time till we landed. It was then I realized I had no idea where we were going . . . maybe somewhere hot . . . or maybe somewhere cold. I hoped that wherever I ended up they spoke English, but I didn't fancy the idea of hunkering down in some dodgy hostel in Europe. I'd watched enough horror films to know to stay clear of them.

I smiled to myself sadly, my mind was whirring about all kinds of horrible things but a little silly thought managed to bring a small grin to my face anyway. It's what Hidan would have wanted, I thought, letting my eyelids close and my head slump onto my shoulder. His face was the last image I saw before I drifted into a light slumber.

_The plane was floating, but the engines made no noise in this dream state. The people were laughing and talking – I could see their mouths moving but I couldn't hear a word. I couldn't feel the familiar vibrations of the aircraft as it flew, I felt as still and secure as I did in my own kitchen back home. Outside the thick windows the bright sunshine lit everything up in beautiful midday brightness and the puffy white clouds looked like cotton wool._

_I turned to the seat next to me, but instead of Zetsu's long face, I saw floppy white hair . . . pale skin like ivory . . . and Hidan staring up at me with those great big crimson eyes of his. My heart all but broke. This wasn't fair! I wanted to wake up right away and spare myself the hurt, but at the same time I wanted to sleep for all eternity if it meant never breaking eye contact with him again. I thought all of this in a split second, the rest of the time being spent looking lovingly into his face, and simply smiling._

_His eyes, however, looked preoccupied and worried. As in life, now in death and in my dream, I thought. He was probably aching for another fix, or his legs were giving him grief again. As I reached to clutch his hand for comfort, I noticed his eyes widening and was filled suddenly with a similar sense of dread. It spread from my heart to my head, chilling and frightening me utterly. The feeling was especially disturbing in these perfect, calm and serene surroundings. My stomach churned and the brightness of the day seemed to be snatched away._

_Then the aircraft dipped._

_And plummeted. _

_My eyes widened in horror, the silent laughs of the passengers turned to screams as their mouths drew wide in fright. Outside the window now the clouds were being shredded by the wings, taken into the engines and being mutilated into tiny wisps of white. People were laying bleeding on the floor, bags were falling on mine and Hidan's head, and all I could do was clutch his poor thin hand as we fell to our deaths._

_Air rushed by the sides of the plane, howling and whistling past, my stomach flipped as we carried on dropping and my belly pressed painfully against the seatbelt. It was a terrifying few seconds yet it felt to me like minutes – even hours._

_The clouds split, their torture finally over, and the glittering blue ocean opened out before us, tiny islands sparkling like emeralds dotted the vast blue waves, and white seabirds flocked just above the surface. But the aircraft spun out of control and the view was wrenched away in an instant. Fire and ash splintered from the fuselage just outside the window, and smoke almost obliterated the view from the other side of the cabin. Someone was telling me to brace, which was almost impossible given my size, I tried to lean forwards but my huge ample belly wouldn't allow it. I grasped for Hidan's hand, missed, and then I was shaken so hard I could feel my teeth rattle in my head. The gloomy cabin shook violently and my eyes were pierced with bright white light. _

_When I opened them again, I realized the front of the aircraft had gone. The seats had all but disappeared, leaving only ripped linen and twisted metal in their place. There was simply nothing left. What about the people . . . the children . . ._

_And still we dropped, the sea and waves reached up to take us at an alarming pace. I could already imagine the deceptively blue water turning black as we were sucked deeper into it by the sinking plane. The warm air disappearing, leaving only freezing water and darkness in its place. The water . . . creeping into my throat . . . my nostrils . . . until I was dragged to the depths and crushed by the silent pressure. The sea was coming closer and closer, the dark blackness was opening to receive us and we hit it with incredible force – so hard that for a second I blacked out._

_I awoke to find Hidan pulling on my arm, weakly but persistently. The water had reached my knees and was steadily creeping higher up to my waist. My seatbelts hung opened around my waist, and one of the beautiful women was just leaving the plane, her arm hanging at a grotesque angle and both her shoes lost to the seas._

"_Dei! We have to go!" Hidan screamed, "we have to – URGH – my legs – I can't- god – I can't!!"_

_He was hysterical, clutching his crotch for comfort like he always had, and hyperventilating._

_I jumped to my feet, wrestling my way out of the seat and slinging Hidan over my shoulder. The exit was only in the next row – if we could only make it! Broken and bloody bodies became visible as I moved along the cabin, some hanging impossibly out of baggage racks, some silent corpses still strapped obediently into their seats. _

"_Close your eyes!" I ordered Hidan, and lifted him though the exit first – doubting my ability to fit through it. _

"_Uhhhh! Don't leave me. . . out here – I" he gasped, still hunching over and clutching himself desperately. He grovelled on the wing on the plane, waiting to be rescued and taken care of. I grabbed a crimson stained life jacket from around the neck of one unfortunate passenger who I doubted would miss it, and threw it to him. _

_I winced, pushing my way through the tiny little exit door was excruciatingly painful. Sharp metal dug into me and dragged at my thin cheap clothing. But still I pushed, someone had to be there for Hidan. I watched him shrug on the lifejacket and attempt to edge closer to the water, but he was frozen with fear – fear that seemed to have triggered something else far more dangerous._

"_Oh god . . . oh god . . ." he hissed, as I scooped him up and slipped off the wing into the water. He was burning hot and barely breathing. I knew how to handle this, but not now! Not right now!_

"_Hold on" I murmured and spun around in the water, looking for help._

_There was nobody else around, a discarded cap in the water indicated a couple of men may have been here briefly but all were long gone now. I could faintly make out a few people swimming – to shore I assumed. It was so far, across all those steep and moving waves. I wasn't the fittest man in the world, I couldn't swim the channel, and I don't think I'd ever even visited a gym. A walk to the local shop was more than a day's exercise for me but I made it my mission then to pull out all the stops, give it my all. I owed it to myself to protect us both – and get us both safely to land._

_I started out, tying Hidan's lifejacket to the belt hoops on my jeans and instructing him to at least paddle with his arms. His legs trailed behind us, like they had that day long ago when we went to the pool, he remembered that afternoon as well as I._

"_It's ok" I comforted him when I saw the frustration well up in his eyes. It wasn't his fault he was cursed with this disability. I could tell it made him feel useless, made him dependant on others. He hadn't been able to walk for years now, or stand, or run. People looked down on him, I had a feeling that Kisame beat him, but still I loved him, still I cared._

_We made slow progress, over the salty waves and down into the troughs, only to be thrown back upwards again and over the next one. A few minutes from the shore a great breaker split us apart – the small lanyard tying us together snapped in a spray of man made rope and Hidan was wrenched from my grasp. I spluttered, whirling around in the water, trying to catch him again. The salt in my eyes made me blind, and the salt in my mouth made me choke. I was rolling around and around - being pushed back under by fresh waves breaking. I didn't know what was up and what was down anymore. Gravity seemed to have given up on me at the same time as oxygen. White stars flew round and round in my head and I despaired – was this the end? Was I to die here, alone and afraid in an unfamiliar sea in the middle of nowhere?_

_The answer was no._

_Within seconds I'd been washed up on soft sand, choking and wheezing but alive. I clawed my way up the beach, leaving a massive trail behind me like a giant overweight slug. My white T-shirt had gone horribly see-through, exposing every part of me I'd always tried to hide – every part of me that Hidan used to relish. I looked up for him, looked round, looked behind me. _

_About 20 metres down the beach from me, a long broken trail led up and away from the waves. The sand was scuffed and kicked, a shoe lay abandoned and covered in seaweed and my eyes travelled upwards. The shade of a small branch covered the face of the person there, I looked closer . . ._

_And there he was, under the tree, covered in sand and fitting and fitting and fitting and . . . ._

"DEIDARA!" Kakuzu's voice shocked me awake

I jerked awake, surprised and deeply distressed. Kakuzu was standing over me, his face inches from mine. His normally calm face was lined with concern, and I could feel at least two more pairs of eyes watching me as well. I raised my hand to my face and felt rivers of tears still rolling down it. My pudgy cheeks were covered in them, they were dripping off my chin. I was gripping the armrest hard with the other hand – so hard that my knuckles were white. My whole body was tensed and rigid with fear and grief, which only seemed to double when I realized my vision of Hidan was merely another dream.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Kakuzu asked gently, and I nodded a half hearted yes. I couldn't afford to explain the ins and outs of my dream to him here, not when everyone was listening so intently. I sat back and pretended to look out of the window. I noticed that night had come early, I must have been asleep for quite some time, and another thing – we must be nearly there by now. I lacked the guts to ask anyone about it though, and instead simply smiled at the watchful airhostess as she passed by.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, and I clenched my fist, trying to resist. But after a pause I began to reel off a list. Pizza, 2 ciabata sandwiches and a hot dog for starters. She gave me a surprised look, clearly only expecting me to ask for a drink, and took my order down on a little note pad. I watched her scoot off to grab it for me.

I waited, checking my watch every few seconds until the expensive and tiny airplane food packages arrived hot and tasty in front of me. The people around me were starting to look concerned, but I tucked in regardless. A few minutes later, when I was finished and wiping my sticky hands on some wipes, I felt the plane dip again – this time for landing. I sighed, it was almost over, my old life was almost behind me.

I closed my eyes, not willing to exist for a second more.


	13. Touchdown

Written from Pein's point of view . . . . . .

Touchdown. The wheels of the plane bumped along the ground, once, twice, three times. We flew at incredible speeds down the grey concrete runway in the dark. It was night here, wherever here was. I realized Kakuzu hadn't told me our destination either; it was like some military secret!

I grinned stupidly and glanced out of the window. The bright, burning airport lights shone off the water on the floor. It must have rained recently, and judging by the size of the puddles, it rained a lot here. Judging by the amount of lights, we'd just landed in a bit city too. Giant neon monstrosities reflected red, yellow or blue off the shiny sides of the planes, and as the raindrops fell once more, the lights reflected off them too.

I sat back in my seat, bored with the display already. I felt tired and jet lagged. My mood was terrible and I felt agitated and snappy. They had abandoned me, and they didn't even realize it. A few rows in front of me, Deidara slouched taking up two whole seats, I sneered at the back of his head. Next to him sat that pompous fool Zetsu, I sneered at him too in due time. My eyes roved across the plane, looking for the rest of them. Across the aisle next to the window, Kisame and Konan sat in a lovers embrace, and Kakuzu had the aisle seat. I was too disgusted to pull faces at either of them.

I sat a few rows back, forgotten for now. They were too wrapped up in their little affairs to notice I was gone, even though they'd personally shoved me onto here in some damn wheelchair. In retrospect, that had been a little harsh on Deidara, and I'd kinda pushed it on purpose. My mean streak presented itself more when I was drunk.

After a small thought I realized that was why I'd been relegated to these back seats. I wasn't complaining, a party of girls on their hen night took up my row and many of the rows around me, so for the duration of the flight it was free drinks all around. I think I'd pretended to be the best man at one point, and someone had stuck a pink rosette on me that read "cheeky" The lipstick was going round at the moment, and the giggling girls were getting rowdy. A big red pair of lips arrived out of nowhere and planted a sticky kiss on the side of my face, I laughed, a real laugh this time. God it was so good to get away from those _weeners. _Sometime during the flight I'd allowed them to paint my fingernails, and we all waved our fingertips – a matching array of sparkly pink glitter. God I needed another drink, this was getting ridiculous. I hadn't even had the savvy to flirt with any of them yet, and here we were already landing! This sucked.

I got jerked and flung about in my seat as the plane rolled to a stop, and people were pushing and shoving each other to get to the door first. It looked like a rugby scrum, and some poor bloke got his hand shut in a hatbin, he screamed like a girl and I laughed even harder. Bags were tumbling out of people's hands onto the floor and bursting open, then other people trampled on their fingers on the way past. And still that sweaty, nasty smell of humanity persisted through the chaos. I staggered to my feet and said one last hearty goodbye to my new girlfriends, grabbed my tiny bag and stumbled down the aisle to join the fray. I couldn't spot any of the guys, and quite frankly the plane was spinning. I lurched from side to side, swaying like a tree in a hurricane. I could feel the airhostesses eyes on me, even now when I was leaving. I bet they were glad to see me go. Though from what I'd heard, Deidara had caused enough trouble on his own – I could hear the commotion from where I sat, in between choruses of songs by washed up boybands.

Outside of the fuggy interior of the aircraft, the cold blast of air hit me like a slap in the face, and the rain made it that much worse. The little metal stairs I tripped down were slippery and wet, dangerous as hell and gleaming dully in the arc lights. The rain cascaded right down my shirt neck and trickled down my back like freezing fingernails. It soaked right through my thin jacket in minutes, and chilled my skin seconds later. I trudged through the puddles, doubting my ability to dodge them, and soon my canvas shoes were leaking too.

The clouds overhead grumbled with hunger and thunder, and somewhere over the strangely glowing sky, lighting crackled. I looked up to the heavens, expecting to see another flash, but realized it was hopeless; I couldn't see a thing– the lights were so bright. The only thing I could smell was the pungent, toxic odour of kerosene and jet fuel. And the only thing I could hear was the monotonous drone of the engines, and the mindless chatter of the millions. Though, despite this new, strange, unfriendly looking place, I had a feeling I would like it here . . . .

Day 2

Waking up . . . the grey tinge to the light told me that the time must be somewhere before dawn. I rolled over, groaning at the nasty scratchy covers and the dusty old pillow under my head. I felt terrible - partly due to the hangover from the whole airport fiasco yesterday. I also felt kind of morally guilty about my actions. I'd put Deidara through a living hell, and though I didn't really care for him that much, he didn't quite deserve that.

Blearily I opened bloodshot eyes and took stock of the room I was sprawled in. The floor was wooden and bare of rugs or carpeting, the walls were plain, whitewashed and slightly mouldy around the corners. A couple of couches were propped up on each other like weary travellers, and I fully expected they were on the verge of collapse. I lay on one of them, and squinting, I could make out Zetsu tucked up on the other. I suppressed a snigger. Oh how the mighty had fallen. This was a million miles away from duck down duvets and silk sheets. My eyes pierced the dusty gloom and stared right into his sleeping face. What a wanker. If I had the strength I flopped back on the pillows and let my head do a merry spinning dance.

It smelt in here, I decided after a long pause. It smelt of damp, mothballs and failure. We could have been tucked up in a posh hotel instead of slumming it in here. But Kakuzu had the wallet and was keeping it under lock and key. "This place belongs to a friend of a friend" he'd muttered as he'd pushed the rotten door wide and unleashed the stink of squalor. Like we were supposed to be grateful?

"Urgh" I moaned as something touched my nose and forehead,

A thin trickle of dust caught my eye, and I noticed it was tumbling out of cracks in the ceiling. It was the same sort of dirty brown colour that thinly coated the furniture in here. I stared baffled, as the trickle became a stream, and the house began to quake. The windows shook and rattled more dust out of their frames, I could see now why all the shelves in this place had collapsed. A loud, metallic thundering noise grew in volume, the dust turned briefly to clouds, the couch I was slumped on even began to shudder . . . And then rattling slowly subsided. I guessed a train had just passed us by, very close, maybe on a bridge or something just out of sight. Panic over.

I looked back to the window panes, now that the trembling had stopped. The only window we had in this room looked out onto a busy street about 5 storeys below.I could see bright yellow taxi's, criss crossing commuters weaving in and out of each other on the pavement, and strange street vendors. Wasn't it a little early to be selling . . . I squinted to make out the worlds on the yellow and red striped kiosk . . . "Dacey's Delicious Dogs". I grimaced, hot dogs for breakfast? Deidara _would _be pleased. I grunted in disgust and turned back to the nasty stiff bedcover, trying not to look too closely in case I saw something Id regret. The situation was shit, I felt like the living dead, and there was no beer. I wondered then where the nearest pub was, or an off licence. Or a supermarket. Anything would do, I had no time or patience for any of these guys until I'd gotten a pint inside me.

Someone else's groan pierced the silence then and I could tell it was Deidara. He had great black circles under his eyes, and tear stains down his round cheeks. He clutched at the blanket he'd been huddled under, and retreated further into the corner, still grieving badly. The pain was clear on his face, stinging him from the inside out and crumpling his fair features into a mask of sorrow. I felt true pity sail through my fuddled mind at the sight. It was a strange and unsettling emotion for me.

Silently I arose from the bed, my feet seemed to carry me across the room against my will, as if they had a life of their own. I tiptoed past Konan and Kisame, locked together like limpets, and I slowly danced around the sleeping Zetsu making sure to poke him in the head a couple of times. At least that brought a smile to Deidara's lips. Kakuzu was the last obstacle in my path, and I noticed he still had the keys to this flat curled in his fist. Number 14 we were, just beyond bad luck and ironic to the last breath.

I crept to Deidara's side, hearing him whimper miserably under his breath. He was going to pieces, we could all see that. He'd held it together for the day it mattered, but now he'd got nothing left but his memories and his sadness. I had no words to offer him, and if I had they'd have come out disjointed and muddled – my concentration wasn't at its best in the mornings. I felt lost and unsure when confronted with other people's emotions, much like the insides of other people's houses. These confusing times were always best dealt with with a drink inside you. So I simply huddled up by his side, and pressed my small body to his larger one.

He barely noticed the contact. His eyes stared off, brimming with tears but not yet bursting, and his bottom lip trembled with the downpour to come. I decided it would be better not to wake the others, so carefully I got him to his feet and steered him to the door. The key to the decrepit old flat was tweaked from Kakuzu's fingers and we left as silently as the dodgy creaking place would allow. Out in the corridor, the situation was worse than before.

The freezing tiles seemed to send their cold up through my thin shoes and an icy morning breeze shuddered through the hall. Deidara shivered, as did I. The walls out here looked the same as inside, brought into sharp relief by a slightly brighter morning light. We passed dozens of other doors on the way to the communal stairs, smelling breakfast and hearing the early clatter of people. The scent of bacon on the air seemed to put Deidara on edge, and I quickly navigated the maze of halls to get us out of the complex before it became too much for him.

We were met by the sight of an overgrown forecourt, some garages to our right that stretched off endlessly in orderly rows of metal and brick. It looked oddly like home. Some burnt out wrecks of cars stood as silent as corpses on the corner of the road, and a children's park, with swings moving like phantoms in the wind stood just ahead. Deidara was still snivelling beside me, and I wished I had a tissue to offer him – he looked pathetic. His shirt was stained with remains of all that food he'd wolfed on the plane yesterday – ketchup here and a swipe of grease there. I tried to stay calm and focused, but in my current state of mind I had a short fuse and a bad temper. I tried to concentrate on comforting the man striding, or more accurately wobbling next to me, but my nerves were already frayed. I was already growing impatient with him.

The tears that had stung his eyes earlier had dried on his cheeks, and the sobs that had racked his throat in the night had ceased. I had meant to simply take him aside and comfort him, but now, out and free in the open air I was getting easily distracted.

Sly as a fox, and just as sneaky I tiptoed towards the parking lot around the corner from where we were standing. Last night everything had been darkness, rain and doubt and I couldn't for the life of me remember where Kakuzu had parked our car. Or even if it had been a damn taxi rather than a car.

"Help me look for it!" I hissed to Deidara out of the corner of my mouth, trying not to be overheard. I jerked my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the rows of obediently parked cars in their neat little lines.

"You're an idiot!" he hissed back, "we look suspicious!"

"you look more suspicious! Just pretend like we're meant to be here"

"we're _not_ meant to be here! You don't even have a licence" he sniggered, "and even if you did, you'd already be over the limit to drive!"

"shut it fatso" I shot back, rounding on him, the car forgotten

I stared him down, even though in reality he was a head taller than me. He met my bloodied eyes right back with his own pale blue ones. We stood like that for a long moment, until the silence was broken.

"Wait! Wait!" it sounded like a woman's voice, eager to be heard but not _overheard_

I looked around and then _further_ around Deidara's impressive form, my jaw dropped as I saw Konan limping delicately out of the big grey complex. Her hair was matted and her make up smeared all over her face – none of it where it was meant to be. Her skirt looked even shorter in the daylight and she was holding onto the wall for support as she called out to us.

"Wait, oh please wait!" she cried, struggling towards us over the gravel. Her feet were bare and sore from running down concrete halls and stairs after us I presumed. Nasty blisters from wearing "sexy" heels adorned her feet and toes, and darker, more sinister bruises decorated her bare legs and arms. Her only clothing was a T-shirt and I realized up until now I'd never really gotten a good look at her.

"It's a Serena" she gasped, "look for a Nissan Serena"

Deidara turned his back respectively, but I was too stunned to react, she'd had this planned from the off! Kisame's phone was in her hand (he never trusted her with one of her own) and I strongly expected his wallet was in the other. She saw me looking

"I've . . . I've got the keys too . . ." she stammered. "Please, let's go quickly"

No sooner was the key in the lock, and the windows rolled down, we heard a door slam violently about 5 floors up.

"GIRL!" a male voice whipped round the parking lot, and echoed back off the garages. A chill ran up and down my spine

"Go please, lets go" Konan pleaded with tears in her eyes. She leaned over and turned the key in the ignition, and my head was still spinning when the big heavy people carrier lurched into the driveway. I was more hungover than I first realized, and the world spun with the car as we turned in a lazy circle to meet the road ahead. I saw a man, with bright green hair and a creased dinner suit racing across the white painted parking lines towards us – Zetsu unmistakably.

How had everyone woken up so fast?

"GO! GO!" Konan was screaming, her eyes locked only on the man descending from the upper floors, with only menace in his hands

What if he wanted a lift? What if he wanted to join us? I had only moments to decide, if Kisame caught up with me, neither of us would be able to stop him. We'd be lucky to end up in hospital.

A split second decision

"GET IN!" I screamed, popping open the passenger door, which Konan was too afraid to take and Deidara too large to fit into. His butt had barely touched the cheap fabric before we were gone, in a cloud of smoke and fear. I never looked back, and neither did they.

"You know, you're not bad for a-"

"For a _what?_" I snapped

"Nothing" Zetsu sighed, and got out of the car.

It was 3 hours later, though for me it felt closer to six, and we were sitting outside some dilapidated motorway petrol station putting the world to rights. Konan had found some overalls to wear, bought with Kisame's money, and I couldn't help but think it was the most id ever seen her wear. She looked oddly good in the dark blue men's clothing, and was sitting on the kerb tucking into a tasteless packaged sandwich. Deidara sat next to her, gorging himself on three times that, plus a generous handful of chocolate bars. He looked happier already.

I stared at them, and the grease-strewn tarmac, and the bright sky alive with airoplanes and vapour trails. The smell of petrol and pollution almost choked me, and the never ending roar of the motorway drilled through my aching head. Ahead of me, a squat little shop all made of glass and advertisements was just opening for the day. Newspapers and magazines crowded a little stand not far from our car, and the smell of morning coffee and doughnuts wafted out of the electric doors whenever a commuter or two passed through.

I noticed Deidara's head turn and breathe in the sugary scent at every opportunity and I mentally gave him 5 minutes before he found himself walking in there. Zetsu was in the queue as I spoke, standing next to the briefcase carrying important men on their way to the city. Our green-haired friend was trying so hard to blend in, but in the out-dated suit and with messy unkempt hair he looked anything but professional.

I assumed he had managed to find some giant great big political paper to pretend to read, or failing that, a dictionary. He hadn't anything else to prop up his act anymore, he wasn't even there to buy petrol being as he couldn't drive and I was in the driver's seat. His air of importance and feigned grace was melting away like snow in spring, but he hadn't seemed to notice yet. He was distancing himself from the rest of us; I guessed we were far too common. I wished he'd drop the act already, there was no one around to care, and most of them were as "common" as us, if not more. I sniggered.

I saw him musing about inside the little shop, trying to avoid the bright garish porn magazines with words like "Gosh!" printed over the models breasts. I hoped he found his paper before he went the colour of beetroot and had to leave.

As for me, I hadn't left the car. Konan had brought me a bottle of wine. And several others that she'd stuffed under the seat when the others weren't looking. I sat with my feet on the dashboard, listening to some old tat on the radio, and steadily drinking my way past the driving limit. I hadn't felt so relaxed for quite some time either.

A map lay forgotten on the ripped old passenger seat beside me, Zetsu had been trying to direct us somewhere, but I didn't trust him completely. My only concern was stopping at the first possible petrol station to "get gas for the car". No need to mention we'd hired it with a full tank. Konan understood and played along, she was astoundingly clever that one. I gulped another mouthful and felt the sweet wine easing down my throat and setting my mind right. It was a white wine, naff and cheap, but it was proving to do the same job as all the rest. Sometimes, I didn't even like the taste, sometimes I denied myself on purpose – just to see what would happen. But the nightmares were too terrible, and my mood swings were so changeable. So I hadn't seen the point for a fair few months now. Truth be told, compared to Zetsu I wasn't even worth saving. I saw him in there with his credit cards and his fancy words, his confidence and his flair that everybody seemed to buy, no matter what their bank balance read. I'd seen his educated friends and his manners and the way people warmed to him like moths to a flame. I'd seen his success and his raw ambition . . . and bitterly hated him more with every passing day.

How dare he?

I took another drink. A deeper one, to cleanse the anger I felt coming back again like a rising tide. He was just like me once, a normal boy, growing up the same way in the same school. And now this vast divide had pushed between us. Well screw him. I'd show him . . . I'd show him . . . that I didn't have half the things he had. That I hadn't been half the places he had, that he'd beaten me to every major life goal already and we were only 20.

Tell you what I would show him, I thought miserably, chucking the now empty bottle out of the window. I'd show him how to drink your way to happiness. And as Deidara and Konan got back into the car, I thought, I'll show him the speed of a people carrier with only three fucking passengers!

"Fuck you!" I screamed out of the window as I floored the accelerator. My orange hair whipped into my eyes and blinded me, but I was already blind drunk and mad on revenge. Zetsu's face as he queued up to pay was unmistakable and unforgettable. I howled with laughter as the others sniggered nervously. The car lurched and spun on the greasy tarmac, throwing Konan into Deidara's soft waist before they could even buckle their seatbelts. I peered out through the murky screen to see Zetsu, and quickly spotted him. He was running for the door, dropping his little purse and his massive paper, and his healthy bottle of healthy water.

I yelped with laughter and swung the car around again, shouting abuse and making sure the doors were locked so he couldn't get in. After a couple of victory laps I forced the lumbering vehicle out onto the motorway, blasting on the horn to get the other motorists out of my way!

"Fuck you that's what you get!" I yelled out of my open window, but my words were lost to the wind. The goading insults were empty and hollow, without real meaning and dredged up from my cold bitterness. He hadn't done anything wrong, it was what he'd done right that I was punishing him for. . . Far behind us, Zetsu stood alone by the service station with his mineral water dripping down his dinner suit and ruining his paper. His expression was one of shock rather than outrage, as if he'd never expected this to come from such a downtrodden underdog. He actually looked quite sad, and so did Konan. I could see her face in the rear view mirror, but then I wrenched it off the top and threw that out the window as well. I had no patience for sad faces today.

Later the same night . ..

The sound of crickets chirping woke me for the second time. The window was open and banging wide against the side of the motel, and a warm breeze was blowing in and tickling my face. I raised my head slightly to glare at the billowing curtains, and felt something sticky on my cheeks. Wine. I was hunched on the chilly floor of the bathroom, propped up on a toilet. My lank hair hung in my eyes, not so much orange anymore but dark with grime. I was dressed only in my boxers and covered in goosebumps, with no idea of the time and no incentive to care. I guess I'd hit the bottle more or less as soon as I got into the room. I remembered something about a crap show on the tiny TV, Deidara ordering obscene amounts of food in, and a lot of disapproving glances for not even using a wine glass. But at least it saved doing the washing up.

"Urgh" I muttered, pushing myself away from the toilet bowl. The wine's sticky, fruity remains drowned the white lino and tiles in a nasty puddle of red stain. I groaned and pulled myself to my feet, noticing my awful reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. My face was pale, and my eyes were bloodshot and sore. My cheap shirt had gotten filthy from lying on the floor and the dust had clung to my jeans as well. I turned my back on the picture of myself and ventured out into the lounge.

The place we'd stopped at named itself "Motel 6". Didn't feel very welcome to me, felt like someone had taken a mallet to my head. The furniture wasn't exactly welcoming either I thought angrily, letting drunken idiocy get the better of me. The carpet was snagged and thin, and the curtains were almost see-through. I could practically hear the lecherous old men circling in the parking lot! When was I going to get my big break and stop living in shitholes like this? The house I'd once shared with my mother and her boyfriend was probably the best of it, then Kakuzu's shitty little bedsit had hardly been an improvement. That hotel where we lost Hidan, I thought that had been rock bottom . . . until I'd seen that place in New York that we wound up in. And now here I was at the end of the road. No money, no job and nothing left to do. Well, there was a bottle of wine somewhere around here, but I was saving it for the morning. I glared around the apartment.

In another room, a TV blared – probably some news channel or other talking to itself throughout the night. Deidara simply couldn't bear the silence anymore. I padded softly across the plainly decorated lounge and poked my head around the first bedroom door I came to. The room beyond was small and cramped, not really a room at all; more like a cupboard. And the man curled up on the bed dwarfed the room even further. Well, I thought as I stepped over the threshold, a man of his size couldn't really 'curl' around anything; he looked like a stranded hippo on a riverbank. He was big, really big, and the poor mattress strained to support him. I'd never really noticed him sleeping before, and I looked down upon his swollen cheeks and enormous belly thinking that I would probably never see what Hidan had seen. I paused to snigger when he suddenly moved and I realized with a start that he'd never really been asleep.

His belly jiggled obscenely when he rolled over and shifted a cascade of old crisp packets and tinfoil chocolate wrappers to the floor. Great red track marks stood out in great contrast to his pale soft flesh where his XXL trousers had cut in too tightly. His waist was covered with them, and as my gaze travelled up past his stomach towards his stretched grubby T-Shirt, I saw every single roll of his fat showing through. A sleepy groan escaped his lips, and he rubbed his eyes with podgy fat hands, dislodging yet more cake wrappers to the floor to join the rest. I pulled a face of disgust, my head spun and I still had the dregs of a bottle of wine on my face, but I felt more pity for him than myself.

Retreating silently, I backed into the hall again being careful not to let him discover he'd been spied on. And between the crumpled blankets and a day's worth of junk food litter, Deidara finally dreamed . . .

_(Deidara's POV)_

_Time was irrelevant, it was neither light nor dark, neither day nor night. But one thing was for certain, it was definitely the past._

_Hidan sat rigid in his chair with his fists turned white from being clenched so hard. Skeletal fingers gripped the arms of his chair and his veins showed dark through his paper thin skin. His head was tilted up towards the ceiling, almost as if he was praying to some nameless god, but his eyes were squeezed closed. An agonized moan hissed between his clenched teeth, one of many that had gone before, and the shuddering aftershock followed almost immediately. The chair rattled with his shaking which lasted barely into three seconds before ceasing, only to repeat from the beginning all over again._

_I'd seen this happen before more times than I cared to count, but judging by the greying of his skin and the sweat that rolled down his temples and stuck his hair to his face, this had been going on for some time. A figure stood near him . . . was it me? A dream version of myself standing there next to him? Why wasn't I helping him? The figure knelt by the chair with one hand on Hidan's trembling leg, and I realized it couldn't possibly be me; I'd never do something so stupid. Couldn't he see it was making him worse? But then the vision cleared and it was Kisame's face that swam before my eyes. Not him! Anyone but him. That man was bad news._

_Before I could speculate any more, another groan filled the room and Hidan began tearing at his legs trying to split them and spread them apart. This time the tremor that shook him was worse and his eyes rolled up showing only the whites, his ragged breathing hitched-_

_Then Kisame walloped him round the face, once . . . twice_

"_No!" I screamed, trying to rush in and destroy the evil man, but invisible bonds held me and my feet were stuck as if in treacle. My stomach pressed up against a barrier and I could go no further. I watched in horror as Kisame struck Hidan once more and his eyes rolled back, the shuddering stopped and his short rattling breaths started up once again._

_I understood his evil plan at the same instant I wondered if anyone could be cruel enough to carry it out. He was stopping Hidan from fitting, prolonging this torture for hours and hours longer than it had to be._

"_Deidara will be here soon" he murmured in a mock-sweet voice, and grabbed his crotch to accentuate his point_

"_Please . . ." Hidan begged and his breaths became shallower still, more urgent. He was ill, he was really really sick. Again he tried to reach down and separate his heavy numb legs to relieve some of the pressure, but again his withered hands were slapped away. His head lolled on his shoulders, flopping sickeningly as another convulsion tore through him. His crotch _throbbed, _it was unbearable. Kisame pushed his hips down as Hidan tried desperately to buck up into something, to crush his aching groin against something. He felt like he'd gone through 6 or even 7 fits, bit still he felt the same terrifying need, the same breathless agony. _

_His whole body ached like he'd run a marathon and he cried out in pure helplessness_

"_please help me" he groaned, a tear streaked down his feverish skin and he felt like he was going to vomit_

"_soon, Deidara will be here soon" Kisame murmured, delivering another appalling blow. It hit him like a ton of bricks just below his eye, causing blood to run with the tears down the mess his face had become._

_My heart all but broke. How many times had this happened? He was almost crying in earnest now, slumped pathetically in his wheelchair. All the fight had gone out of him and his eyes were dead, the fever and the need ripped through him unchecked as if he no longer cared about his dignity. The fits were coming closer together now, I noticed, and Kisame's punches were matching them, blow for blow. He landed one strike to the face for every three or four to his body and legs - that's how the scumbag carried out this torture without being found out. I ground my teeth together in horror; this had been going on right under my nose. Poor Hidan, his poor battered body, al l those bruises and all that time I never knew!_

_A tear ran down my own cheek then, with all the guilt and frustration rolled up in it. _

_Kisame and his evil plan melted away, and it was just me and Hidan. I reached and lifted him from his chair – his body was sickeningly light and clammy, and his clothes hung off him like rags. I swear I'd never been so careful with anything in my life than with this slightly trembling sweaty body. I took him gently into my lap, letting him nestle his head into my neck and grasp his crotch for comfort. I didn't say a word to him lest I break the magic, the last thing I could stand would be if my words upset him or disturbed him. He shook faintly in my arms and I wiped his brow above his closed eyes to try and soothe him a little. His skin was fiery hot and he was panting like an animal, I rocked him tenderly. Later, when another groan rumbled up through his throat, I rocked __**into**__ him while he lay with his stomach on the cold hard floor. I took him slowly . . . lovingly; I caressed him like a virgin. With every movement I made, a reluctant moan passed his lips, and a shudder (just as unwanted) coursed through his bones. Still neither of us had uttered a word. No words were needed, this was just relief- nothing more, and no less than what he needed._

_When he fell asleep, battered and bruised on the unforgiving floor, I scooped him up and laid him down to sleep. Then I too, slept the sleep of the truly exhausted . . ._

X x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

(Back to Pein's POV)

Back in the present, I skipped past the little tiled bathroom with the humming heaters, and past the dodgy laundry cupboard that no one dared to open, and ended up outside Konan's little door. It was dented and bashed – we hadn't really been able to afford the best room in the place, but it would be better if it was old and busted. If it lacked a lock I'd be able to get in and speak to someone. I needed some human contact!

"Konan" I whispered and pushed the door, it opened without a creak and revealed the petite room beyond, and the undiscovered beauty sitting on the bed. My sharp intake of breath must have startled her, because her head whipped round showing every precious blue strand of her hair. Without the garish make-up and slutty skirts and push up bra's she was actually a very stunning woman. She sat wearing a plain white dressing gown with the motels logo embroidered in gold just above her breast. I stared and she blushed for a long moment.

I saw a bundle of papers and maps down by her bare toes, stopped to wonder at the perfectly painted little pink nails, then pulled myself together and invited myself in.

"Pein . . ." she began by pulling a face at my dishevelled appearance

"It's alright I won't touch anything" I muttered and dumped myself to the floor by the foot of the bed. It smelt like girls in here, all hairspray and perfume. I shifted uncomfortably and picked up one of the maps to distract myself from her, I'd never really been around girls especially not this one. She'd been out of bounds, locked up and shut away and no one dared to challenge Kisame for her – not even when he'd been in prison. Now I sat in front of her, trying not to look at her bare leg because I had no idea how to behave. She saved me in the end by picking up the other end of the map and pointing out the road we were on and where she thought we should head to next. It all looked like a mess of squiggles and lines to my drink fuddled mind, and I found myself utterly unable to concentrate.

"I suppose we should really pick a direction" I mumbled, struggling to keep up.

She noticed my dejected tone and folded the map neatly away.

"Simple things first" she said quietly, stood me up and walked me to a mirror. Sometimes I was quite shocked at just how much she knew and understood about me. Sometimes simple thoughts were the only ones that got through – usually about half past four in the afternoon, when you hadn't had a drink and it was still socially unacceptable to do so. Curse society.

I noticed when she presented me in front of the smeared and dirty mirror, that even though my reflection wasn't totally clear in the filthy, bent glass, she did have a point. We were grimy from travelling – not one of us had changed into fresh clothes since the flight out here, and all our suitcases were miles away at that dingy little flat that we'd fled. Even if we showered, we'd smell just as sour in these grubby jeans and shirts.

"shopping" she announced. So shopping it was.

"I don't know why you let him drive!" Deidara squealed from the back seat as I ran another red light. I didn't see the point of doing what a load of little lights told me to do, or a load of white lines on the road. I didn't even know the way to the mall! I'd swerved and steered across miles and miles of motorway, with overhead signs pointing the way to this place and that place. Everything was _so far apart_ in this country! This was completely foreign territory – I was used to tiny English shopping malls that would probably fit threefold into some of these American creations. I found out the reality of that guess as soon as we pulled up in a parking lot.

"Park in between the lines, not across them!" Konan had chided me, but I didn't like conforming to the neat little painted boxes. The car park itself was so huge there was enough room for everyone in their giant people-carrier cars. You could barely see across it - a big coloured sign informed me that we were in the 'blue zone' but I knew I'd forget it in around 10 minutes. I ignored the sign. Soon a great square bus arrived to ferry us to the doors of this place, the aim, I supposed, was to get us to spend our money that much sooner. It didn't cost us anything so I didn't see the harm, and I'd most likely get lost on the way if left to my own devices.

Deidara had been almost silent throughout the last part of our adventure; he was quiet on the free bus as his belly jiggled back and forth to the sway of the vehicle. He didn't say a word as we followed the crowd through oversize glass doors into an impressive atrium filled with fountains and plastic flowers. He almost mentioned the tantalizing smells of the sprawling Mac Donald's restaurant when we passed the food court on the way up the escalator, but still he didn't say a word. I could almost see the words forming on his lips, the plea for a lunch break at just past 11am. If it was his own money in question he'd already be in the queue for a double cheese burger, but Konan had the wallet and we all danced to her tune.

Up on the third or fourth floor, I looked back down the shining silver stairs and felt giddy from the height . . . or maybe it was just the hangover. A great gaping circular hole opened up like a mouth in the centre of the mall, so you could see the shoppers busying about like so many ants floors and floors below you. I felt almost superior, sneering down on them from a great height, but as Konan led us further and further away from the designer stores and closer and closer to the cut-price racks, I felt my pride wash away. She stalked ahead, eager to get out of her men's overalls and I found myself wondering whether she'd fall back into her old look of high heels and tight dresses. Deidara dragged behind, huffing, puffing and sweating and probably thinking only of his endless craving rather than drinking in the beauty of this place. It was a testimony to the greed of the west, a temple to overindulgence and gluttony, and how the people worshipped it. I saw them scurrying about with their brightly coloured bags and boxes, gorging themselves at one restaurant after another – there were over 20! Hadn't seen any bars yet though. I normally had the place scoped after 5 minutes maximum, costs calculated, cash counted and a proposition for a drink already forming on my lips. Here though . . . not a peep.

I nearly bumped into Konan's shapely rear as she stopped suddenly, studying another big plastic mall-map.

"We're nearly at the shop" she said brightly, "It should be just . . . .There!"

I looked expectantly, but all I could see was the back of some old woman's head, this place was packed to the rafters. I assumed Konan had a better view, and then followed her quickly through the throng to the wide open doors of . . .

"Discount clothes sale?" Deidara moaned in misery

"You tight fisted old-"

"Hey, we need to get by on this money" she interrupted, waving a couple of notes and waving away the insults she knew were coming. "Just get in there and get it over with"

"Smells like old people" I bickered, stepping over the threshold onto threadbare carpet, and tried to nudge Deidara in the ribs. My elbow sank deeply into his vast stomach before I regained my balance and gave up the joke. I busied myself, browsing down the aisles of awful out of date fashions and corduroy trousers. The trick was to pick the best of it and come out looking half decent – something Konan would inevitable achieve. Hesitantly I reached out and_ touched _some jacket that actually looked like something I'd once owned, back in the day. Zetsu may have **actually** died had we brought him here; I sniggered at the thought and strolled on while a crappy TV blared in the background.

Over the other side of the rather large shop floor, Deidara was finding it a little more difficult. "They don't have my size!" he hissed to Konan where he thought he couldn't be overheard. It was probably true, these stores were so cheap because they only did a limited amount of styles and sizes. Nothing they had would be generous enough to fit his considerable bulk inside, and I forced back another snigger. He didn't have a hope in hell; even if he was a girl and could wear a dress I doubt any would fit him. Ew . . . Deidara in a dress!

I picked out a not-so-bad t shirt and some distressed jeans, a pair of fake Reebok trainers and a beanie hat to replace the one I left behind, called it done and went to the till with Konan. She changed into her new garb immediately, and I found out that she was trying a new look after all. ("So he won't recognise me" she told me in hushed whispers) She looked striking in a floor length black skirt that would have looked frumpy on almost anyone else, paired with a mundane, boring little green strappy shirt. She didn't look like Konan anymore, whereas I still looked like Pein. I averted my eyes from her, feeling something close to unworthiness, and caught Deidara's panicked eyes poking out from behind a changing room curtain.

"It won't fit" he mouthed in horror across the racks and shelves

"No bloody surprise" I mouthed back, and told Konan. I anticipated we'd be making a trip to some plus-sized oversized mammoth – shop now. If Hidan wasn't already dead, he probably would have died at the sight of Deidara in pants about 5 sizes too small, struggling to get out of them and getting tangled in the changing room curtains. I think the entire population of the united states saw his round flabby arse that day.

Needless to say, when we arrived at the only high-street style store where anything would fit around his huge gut, the usual XXL size wouldn't do. We searched for an XXXL while he stood a half naked in a changing booth, shivering, with me laughing all the way. I was beyond help now I decided. I was bad tempered, tired, and feeling mean. This place had a TV behind the till as well, and as Konan paused to inspect some impossible jogging bottoms with a 48 inch waist, I had a sneaky peak at the news.

What I saw actually terrified me.

"_- and a vehicle has been stolen close to the I-55 turn off services" _The news man warbled in a tinny nasal voice. The picture cut to a perfect image of our car, complete with registration number and a rather dashing picture of myself, wide eyed and hanging onto the wheel like a madman. Why the news though? It was just a stolen car – and technically stolen from the car hiring agency not from an actual person.

"_We are being told that the drivers of this car are wanted for manslaughter in 3 states and that the public are not to approach them if seen"_ the newsreader continued after a pause. He checked the feed coming in through his headset, and confirmed that Me, Konan (a wanted felon) and Deidara (a large man guilty of theft) were not only car thieves but wanted for robbery and fraud.

By this point Konan had turned to face the TV, an expression of disbelief etched across her face.

"Kisame did this" she whispered, but it was not his face that appeared next on the news. It was Zetsu's, speaking into a mic like he'd done it a hundred times before. He was dressed in a brand new merino cashmere sweater in a lovely dark green to match his hair. Next to him stood that posh tart Sasori from the airport, with an arm round his shoulder consoling him after his 'difficult kidnap ordeal.'

My jaw dropped. He'd betrayed everyone from the start! How had he spread so many lies at such a fast pace? It couldn't have been more than a day since we'd ditched him at the 711, and here he was on the news, accusing us of murdering someone and kidnapping him. And all of it just to get back in with that crowd he never belonged to in the beginning. I spied a sparkling silver watch hanging off one of his wrists, and the dinner suit had gone – replaced by come Lee Klabin slacks and a pair of shiny shoes by Terry De Havilland. What a bastard.

Again, before me or Konan could utter a noise of disgust, a picture of us and the car flicked up on screen with another note of warning to the public about dangerous fugitives, theft, kidnap and manslaughter. Suddenly I was glad that Konan looked different to the slutty image portrayed by Channel 5 today, and I wished I'd done the same. Slowly I turned around to check that no one had noticed me, shopping and Deidara seemed half a hundred miles away now. I moved like a zombie, stuffing the obscenely massive trousers under the changing room door, and simply walking out of the store when he was done. After being accused of murder, simple shoplifting was small potatoes.

I thought, as we left the mall and saw that the car park wasn't in fact crawling with cop cars and reporters, that I felt free. The sweet American breeze blew my angry orange hair out of my eyes and I was greeted by the late afternoon sunshine. I knew, with a jolt, that at least this would be an adventure.

_You know, so much of myself has been portrayed in these characters it doesn't surprise me that no one gives a flying fuck about reading the story. I mean really. _

_Thats a lie, ive nearly read every story you've written _

_Crphoenix_


End file.
